In The Arms of Love
by skag trendy
Summary: John and Dean are given a mission and they turn it down. But Sam and the Impala go missing…coincidence? Warning: graphic violence may ensue, and Dean and John getting blood thirsty. Sam, is of course, in extreme trouble. Also, Dean...well...his language?
1. Chapter 1

**The Arms of Love**

**Chapter 1**

**Yeah, soppy title but for good reason…I hope. **

**Haven't really thought this through have I?**

**Warning: graphic violence may ensue, and Dean and John getting blood thirsty. Sam, is of course, in extreme trouble.**

**John and Dean are given a mission and they turn it down.**

**But Sam and the Impala go missing…coincidence?**

_**Teen Winchesters in response to Jenilee and Neats.**_

_**Sam is fourteen, and, of course, Dean is eighteen.**_

_**Tell me now do we bear the sins of each other?**_

_**XXXXX**_

_**In the arms of love.**_

__

_**XXXXX**_

_**What are we hoping for?**_

_**Here we stand, closing the painful door.**_

_**And I never knew,**_

_**People could hurt you so.**_

_**They are looking for a reason,**_

_**They are looking for a way out,**_

_**And there's no where left to go.**_

_**Song: The Arms of Love.**_

_**Artist: T'Pau (UK. One of my favourite bands from the 1980s).**_

_**Album: Rage **_

_**Disclaimer: Anything associated with this show became public domain in 2005, which means we, as over protective fans, own them now, not Kripke. We certainly love these boys more than he does**_

…_**.brother against brother, Sam going dark side, Dean going to hell….?**_

_**Wouldn't bloody happen if I was in charge I can tell you that!**_

__

_**If it does happen then Kripke will be one of the first against the wall when the revolution comes…**_

_**In fact, I'm quite happy to feed the bastard to the nearest willing werewolf.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Johnny! So good to see ya!"

John Winchester inwardly cringed as he unconsciously stepped in front of his boys.

"Marco." John kept his tone flat. He refused to show any emotion in front of this bastard. "what dya want this time?"

"Ooh Johnny my friend. You still not forgiven me for last time?" the fat American-Italian grinned. "I have a little mission for you and your sons.." he leered a little at Sam and Dean. "Such fine boys by the way. You know I could cross more than a few palms with silver to ensure _their _futures? "

John once again kept his retort silent, then reached back and squeezed Dean's arm.

_Keep silent. Don't' draw any attention, ok?_

Dean understood and pushed his little brother behind him.

"So." Marco rubbed his enormous stomach and lit a cigar. "Long time no see. You up for another gig Johnny?"

John just sized him up, hands in pockets, for all the world like he really couldn't give a shit.

"Come on John. We're friends…" Marco leaned forward menacingly. "….and _friends watch out for each other!"_

_Jeeze this guy really is a walking mafia cliché huh? _Dean turned to his brother.

"I think you should get outta here Sammy. Now. Just go wait in the car ok?" he whispered. Young though he was, Dean felt something bad here, and he didn't want Sam getting involved.

"Dean…"Sam whispered back.

"Just go. Now!" Dean threw him a John Winchester disapproving glance.

Sam trusted him, there was no doubt about that, but he was worried. "Dean? You'll follow me soon ok?"

Dean inwardly sighed. Sam felt every right to watch out for his older brother, and if Dean was honest, he was more than a little touched by that.

But his bad feelings about this were growing all the time so he didn't want to make any promises.

"I'll be there soon Sam, now just go!" He whispered.

Dad was in deep shit, and Dean knew why. It was his fault.

Dean had taken on a spirit by himself and destroyed it. Dad had been proud of him, once he got over the fact that Dean had gone off by himself just to make a point about his maturity.

And that always backfires.

That spirit had turned out to be Marco's grandmother.

And Marco was less than happy, because the bitch had been trying to tell him about the Swiss bank accounts that would allow him access to a large fortune in art work and sterling, most of which had been laundered through drug dealing throughout the years, not to mention a little post world war II treasure.

So Marco felt that the Winchesters owed him. A lot.

And he would never stop making them pay.

Marco wasn't a Godfather or anything as grand as that; he tried but none of the real families took him seriously. He was in fact considered a waste of space in the mafia business world by most of the Dons.

But as a manipulator, intimidator and torturer, this guy knew his stones. Marco was considered the best in such a role, but a business man he was not.

Yeah. He was a stupid sonofabitch, John reflected, but when it came to the finer parts of _getting what he wanted_, he knew how to get it.

"What's the job?"

Marco smiled. "We have a certain _associate_ that needs a little pay back. I want you to take care of her."

John raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming this associate is dead? 'cos that's the only shit we deal with."

Marco smiled again, but this time it was truly feral.

"Oh she's dead alright. Her mother wouldn't pay the rent, so they ran. But her daughter saw something she shouldn't have. Such a shame don't you think? Her mamma killed herself two days later from the grief. " Marco stared at John, his gaze shifting to Dean 

and…"Where's your youngest John? You really should keep a better eye on your children." He leaned forward. "Our children are our future."

Dean spoke up. "He's around. Doin' a recon."

"Such dedication and loyalty…I'm impressed Johnny. You raised these kids well."

Marco suddenly lost all sense of fake friendship. "I think you need to take this job John."

He leaned over and patted John on the cheek.

John Winchester recoiled. "Don't fucking touch me you bastard!"

Marco's gaze hardened. "You take this job, or I'll make sure you understand what it is to lose something valuable." He sat back and smiled, all friendly again.

"I'll make it worth your while..."

John scowled. "No way. I know what you do. I helped you out once, but I told you then that was the last time." He nudged Dean towards the exit. "Come on. Let's get outta here!"

Marco grinned once more. "Fair enough Johnny. The game starts here."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

John and Dean felt a little shaky as they left. They just wanted to get to the car and Sam.

But when they reached the pavement……the car was gone.

"Sammy? Sam!" Dean yelled in despair. He glanced around frantically, hoping to find his little brother approaching them, calling out, in hiding and waiting for them…_anything!_

John stared down at something on the ground. It was a small mobile phone. It was Sam's, and it held a video message.

He dreaded it, and he knew Dean did.

But they had no other choice.

_Sam was gagged, bound, and blindfolded, and being loaded into the trunk of the Impala. He was whimpering in pain, and John could see the bruises already forming on his face. _

John froze with fear. Until he heard Dean going wild.

_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_

_So you like? Should I continue?_

_You gotta let me know…_

_Kind regards._

_ST.xxx._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Arms of Love Chapter 2**

**For Sendintheclowns and her disturbing Sammy bondage fettish. Weirdo! (cheeky grin) - love ya girl!**

**XXXXXXXX**

_**Now when you are broken into,**_

**_Can we try,_**

**_to make it up to you?_**

**In the Arms of Love - T'pau.**

**XXXXXXXXX**

…"_**Where's your youngest John? You really should keep a better eye on your children." He leaned forward. "Our children are our future."**_

_**Dean spoke up. "He's around. Doin' a recon."**_

"_**Such dedication and loyalty…I'm impressed Johnny. You raised these kids well."**_

_**Marco suddenly lost all sense of fake friendship. "I think you need to take this job John."**_

_**He leaned over and patted John on the cheek.**_

_**John Winchester recoiled. "Don't fucking touch me you bastard!"**_

_**Marco's gaze hardened. "You take this job, or I'll make sure you understand what it is to lose something valuable." **_

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

The instant Sam left the building he knew something was wrong. He quickened his pace, aiming for the Impala, seeking safety. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as adrenaline instantly shot through his bloodstream An early warning sign, honed by nature for 'fight or flight' during times of danger.

Sam broke into a run, but as he reached out to the passenger door handle, a thick muscular arm wrapped around his throat, choking him. Instinct took over and he rammed his elbow back into a wide beer gut, the 'oof' bringing him short-lived satisfaction as he was swung round and punched on the jaw. Sam fell to the ground, stunned by the blow, but before he could pick himself up, a vicious kick to his stomach drove the air out of his lungs and pain clouded his judgement. He gazed up at three of Marco's henchmen, his muddled brain trying to find a way out. Sam lunged forward in a desperate attempt at freedom.

The blows kept on coming, relentlessly punishing him for any move he made. Ribs cracked, eyes began to swell, soft flesh bruised under the onslaught, and just when Sam thought he couldn't take any more, it got worse.

No one spoke, no angry grunts or swearing, no warnings to stay still and give up. It was completely impersonal, and continued until Sam was beaten almost senseless.

As he lay there panting, in pain like none he'd ever felt before, he only had one thought.

_Dean. Please help me…_

But no help came. Wasn't likely to.

Sam's panic levels began to rise when he felt his hands forced behind his back, felt cold metal surround his wrists, and heard the soft 'click' as the cuffs were secured in place. Struggling only earned him another ruthless beating so he laid helplessly still, the energy draining from his body.

What little fight was left in Sam soon died out as a bandana was forced into his mouth, stinging his badly split lip. He tasted the copper in his own blood as the gag was worked in between his teeth, before being tied cruelly tight at the back of his head. Sam couldn't help the small grunt of pain as the gag was jerked in an attempt to check its effectiveness.

A blind fold added to Sam's despair and he kicked out with the one part of his body that remained free. But a tugging on his ankles, followed by the sensation of something being tightly wrapped round them soon put pay to his efforts.

Someone rummaged through his pockets and he felt a momentary flicker of panic, before realising that they were removing his cell phone. Sam would've sighed with relief but he still 

didn't know if child molestation wasn't on their agenda. He didn't think so; these guys were under orders, their movements purposeful, but that still didn't put his mind at rest.

Given the circumstances there was little that could.

Someone grabbed his head, tilting it to one side.

_What the hell?_

Something cold and sticky was dribbled into his ear and he tried to pull away, but the hand holding his head was like an iron grip. The same action was carried out with his other ear and now he could hear nothing. Just faded noises, sounds he couldn't fathom.

Then several hands lifted him up and carried him a short distance before dumping him down in what felt like the trunk of a car, and he was unable to hold in the muffled moans of pain.

Sam was pretty certain he was in the trunk of the Impala.

He recognised the smell of gun oil and leather – it was a hot day so his older brother had forgone wearing the leather jacket, rather reluctantly truth be told – and curled his body into the soft material, breathing in the scent of Dean's aftershave. It was little comfort but it was the best Sam had at this stage. He didn't know if he'd ever see his Dad and brother ever again.

Uncertainty plagued him.

He didn't want to die like this, alone and afraid.

He really wasn't keen to die at all. But anyway you cut it, he was in big trouble.

He felt rather than heard the rumble of the engine as someone turned the ignition, then the car took off, wheel spinning, the action jarring Sam's battered body.

There was one thing he could take comfort in.

_I wouldn't wanna be in these guys shoes when Dean and Dad catch up with them. Takin' the Impala? Not gonna win you any brownie points boys!_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The Impala was about the very last thing Dean and John were worried about.

Right now, John was using all his considerable strength to restrain Dean from going back into Marco's office, and employing several interesting, insightful, yet painful methods in tearing the fat Italian a new one. Under other circumstances John would have been impressed.

Shocked, true. But definitely impressed.

John wanted to lose it, nearly _had_ when they discovered Sam missing, the video message on the abandoned cell phone almost suffocating him in despair. But Dean needed John to hold him steady, to ground him. A role that Sam often took.

Dean was turning the air a surprising shade of blue, cursing and swearing, threatening a slow painful death to anyone who dared to hurt his little brother.

John clamped his arms round Dean's body pinning his hands to his sides. "Dean, calm down. This isn't gonna bring him back." John muttered into his oldest son's ear in a soft soothing voice.

"…you dirty sonsabitches! I'm fucking gonna come after you and FUCK YOUR ASS 'TIL IT BLEEDS!!"

"Dean! That's enough!" John held on desperately, and didn't let up on trying to calm him down. "We'll find him, I promise. No one touches my sons and gets away with it…"

Dean sagged against his father, no longer shouting but misery coloured his voice. "Dad…he was hurt. Hurt badly. I could _hear _it! He needs us…"

"I know son. But we need to find out what the deal is here." John moved round, grasping Dean's arms and looking deep into his eyes, offering reassurance. "Marco aint the kinda guy to take a rejection lyin' down. Doesn't even know the meaning of the word, so you're gonna take some deep breaths, calm down, and then we go back in there and talk."

Dean hung his head in anguish. "I sent him out here Dad. I thought he'd be safer…it's all my fault." His voice broke as did his heart when he thought of Sam, his little brother, helpless, hurt and alone.

John sighed, anxiety still beating a path to his door. "No Dean. You did the right thing. I should never have brought you both here in the first place. You couldn't have known Marco would pull a stunt like this." He smiled when Dean raised his head to meet his father's gaze. "There's one good thing here, son."

Dean cocked his head on one side and stared at his father. "What? What could possibly be good about this?"

John's smile turned feral. "Marco must be desperate. He's also a coward. He knows better than to kidnap and torture a hunter, let alone a hunter's son. And that's something we can work with."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

After an eternity of being kept in the hot confines of the trunk, Sam felt the car skid to a halt and the slam of the car door.

A second later he felt the change in air temperature and knew the trunk had been opened.

A rough hand grabbed his chin and the gag was ripped down to his neck, causing his lip to bleed again.

Before he could speak, something was shoved in his mouth and he choked as water gushed into his windpipe. Gasping in shock, he only just managed to gulp some of the refreshing liquid down before it was taken away. He hadn't realised just how dehydrated he was until he tasted the water.

"Please just let me go…mph!" The gag was replaced and tightened again, to the point of pain.

He felt the trunk slammed shut again, and was left alone in the dark, suffocating heat.

Sam tried rubbing his head against the carpet, desperate to get rid of the gag and blindfold, but both were tied too tightly.

He shuffled round, sweat soaking his shirt, trying to get comfortable in the close quarters; the metallic clink of the handcuffs would have driven a note of despair through him had he been able to hear. He was tall for his age though not as tall as his brother, and the space in the trunk was cramping muscles he didn't know he had.

Sam whimpered in pain, breathing heavily through his nose. He really couldn't think of a way out, and he was pretty certain it was going to drive him mad. He started kicking at the lid of the trunk with his bound feet, desperate to get someone's attention. He couldn't breathe as panic caught him in its grip, and he kicked harder.

There came the change in air temperature again, and Sam grunted in pain as a fist smashed into his stomach. As he reeled from the blow, something was slipped over his nose and mouth, some kind of strap secured round his head, and he could feel soft cool oxygen making its way into his lungs. He sighed in relief, but then quickly realised that he was growing sleepy.

As the trunk thudded shut again, Sam understood that he was being slowly drugged, but could do little about it as the artificial exhaustion quieted him, and sent him into a deep slumber.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

So what dya fink so far? Angsty enough for ya?

I make no apologies for Dean's bad language; I'm pretty certain I'd be just as colourful if someone did that to my big sister. And I'm descended from Cockney Londoners and the Irish, so I know what I'm talking about!

So please review and tell me if I've given Sam enough hell yet.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Arms of Love Chapter 3**

_**Is there anybody up there listening?**_

_**You better come on down and tell us why.**_

_**Hey! If we all bear the cross of the world that we live in**_

_**Then we can try…**_

**In the Arms of Love – T'pau.**

_**Dean hung his head in anguish. "I sent him out here Dad. I thought he'd be safer…it's all my fault." His voice broke as did his heart when he thought of Sam, his little brother, helpless, hurt and alone.**_

_**John sighed, anxiety still beating a path to his door. "No Dean. You did the right thing. I should never have brought you both here in the first place. You couldn't have known Marco would pull a stunt like this." He smiled when Dean raised his head to meet his father's gaze. "There's one good thing here, son."**_

_**Dean cocked his head on one side and stared at his father. "What? What could possibly be good about this?"**_

_**John's smile turned feral. "Marco must be desperate. He's also a coward. He knows better than to kidnap and torture a hunter, let alone a hunter's son. And that's something we can work with."**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**As the trunk thudded shut again, Sam understood that he was being slowly drugged, but could do little about it as the artificial exhaustion quieted him, and sent him into a deep slumber.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Eventually, Sam drifted in and out of consciousness, fighting the drug, fighting the claustrophobia. He employed the same method as before when he'd tried unsuccessfully to remove the gag and blind fold; rubbing the mask against the interior of the trunk, but he was just too weak. Whatever substance was running through his bloodstream kept him subdued, 

and he was pretty sure heat exhaustion was starting to grab a hold. Sam was panting as his body fought to keep him cool, but he knew he didn't have much time. His body was shutting down, directing resources elsewhere in a desperate attempt to keep him alive.

He'd stopped perspiring a little while ago as dehydration set in, and panic was no longer an issue.

But resignation was.

Sam, finally realising just how much deep shit he was in, gave up.

Gave up the fight to stay conscious, gave up thoughts of rescue or escape.

He didn't feel the car moving, or stopping. Wasn't aware of what was happening in the world outside the trunk. The trunk _was_ his world now. That and Dean's leather jacket, but the spicy scent of aftershave no longer offered comfort.

Just loneliness.

Black depression set in, claustrophobia now pushed into the background.

Sam knew what awaited him. He was going to die.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean and John had tried to get back into the building, intent on reaching and confronting Marco. But their way was blocked by two large men in sunglasses and ill-fitting suits. They could have been FBI to Dean's mind, but were probably more intelligent and _that wasn't sayin' much._

They carried weapons; that much was obvious from the bulges under their suit jackets, and it was likely that more of these bastards waited inside.

Yeah. Marco was a coward alright. He'd likely left his HQ by now via another exit. He wasn't the type to take stupid risks with his own miserable life.

Turning back to the street, they sat down on the curb to discuss their next move.

"What now? Just sit here 'til someone makes contact?" Dean had calmed down a little, and despondency was putting in an appearance.

John glanced over at him, smiling sadly. "'fraid so son."

They were both startled by the sound of Sam's cell bleeping at them.

John held it up so Dean could see it. "I guess the next part of the show's about to start…"

It was another video message.

John stared at his youngest son's phone, dreading what he would see next.

He had every right to be worried.

_The Impala was being slowly driven down a slope into a sandy square hollowed out in the ground. The driver leapt out, turning his face away from the camera phone. Just above the makeshift pit, a large yellow bulldozer waited._

_The camera moved closer to the car, and a hand reached out, opening the trunk._

_Sam lay on his side, not moving except for rapid breathing, and his skin was flushed from the heat. He was clearly unconscious. Someone leaned in and disconnected a small metallic tank that lay at Sam's feet, then replaced it with a much larger one. A long clear plastic tube ran from the tank up to the medical mask covering Sam's mouth and nose._

_The trunk was slammed shut and the camera moved back, as the bulldozer roared to life. The image panned out, and the bulldozer approached the pit, pushing in front of it a large mound of sand, tipping it over the edge. A few more scoops and the Impala was completely covered, burying Sam alive…._

"No! Oh god no!" Dean leapt to his feet in shock and despair. "Sammy!"

John clamped down his own anger and fear, then reached up and yanked Dean back to the ground. "Dean! This is just the start ok? We need to keep a clear head if we're gonna rescue Sam." He stared into his older son's eyes, both seeking and offering reassurance. "And we _will _rescue him. I promise."

Dean gazed back, tears welling up in his eyes, but refused to let them fall. "How can you promise that when we don't even know where he is?"

John smiled grimly. "Because they've just given us proof of life. Marco knows he's in deep shit if he kills Sam outright; he needs this job done, and soon. He'll contact us Dean."

As if on cue, Sam's cell chirped loudly. But this time it was a ringtone.

John stared at it a second before pressing the talk button.

"_Johnny boy! Now that I have your undivided attention, perhaps we can talk business."_

John gritted his teeth. "Tell me more about the job."

"_That's the spirit John. Knew you'd come around, which is more than could be said for Sam if you try to cheat me in any way. I like to think I'm your all round classic, generous Italian, so I've allowed Sam about two hours of oxygen. Oxygen with a little sleepy time attached – he's just a kid after all. Don't wanna be cruel!"_

John tried to slow his breathing. "Yeah sure. That's immediately obvious from the beating he's taken, and the fact that you buried him alive…"

"_Now now Johnny. Keep that temper in check. How long dya think he really has? You can't afford to waste time arguing with me on this."_ Marco's tone was all full of false concern and it made John feel physically sick to listen to it. "_He could die from suffocation once the ol' oxygen runs out, but as you can see; he's buried in the hot midday sun. What's to say that heat stroke won't take him sooner? You saw the video message John. He's not even sweating anymore. I'm no expert on first aid and all that shit, but I'm pretty certain that's a fucking bad sign."_

There was a significant pause as Marco let that one sink in.

"_But you already know that….right?..."_

John was silent for a moment, then, dragging a hand down his face, he answered. "Where's the spook?"

"_Corner of West Crescent, go to the warehouse on the right. That's where she….committed suicide. Her daughter seems to be showin' her pretty little ghostly face there too." _Marco paused again, and his voice turned angry. _"That bitch cost me a lot of business; people won't even come near me for the merchandise anymore 'cos she's scarin' them off. You come through for me on this Johnny, and I can put some more work your way, as well as your youngest son, alive and breathin'."_

John heard what he didn't say. _You and your sons are mine. Always will be._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

It's a little short I know, but I think it gets the point across.

Thank you for all your reviews and I _will_ reply to them I promise. I just thought you wanted an update first. Especially you! Sendintheclowns, Criminally Charmed, and the rest of you sick perverts out there! (Hmm…I'm one to fucking talk eh? Oh dear…"

If I've missed anyone with my replies so far then I, as always, deeply apologise.

Keep the reviews coming; it all helps to keep the story alive!

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	4. Chapter 4

**In The Arms of Love Chapter 4**

_**Gonna take you home,**_

_**Back to where you belong,**_

_**Back where ya started from,**_

_**As near as we can come.**_

**In the Arms of Love by T'pau. From the album Rage.**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It didn't take long to get there, and it certainly didn't take long to find them. The spirits were already waiting for John and Dean, eyes filled with grief, pain and despair.

Her daughter stood behind her, anxious little face peering out at them from round her mother's skirt.

The mother was beautiful, a thin, blond, petite woman, her hair swept up into a French knot.

"_Please don't hurt us. We just want to leave, together. I can't leave my baby behind."_ Her voice whispered to them, softly.

John stared at her for a moment before lowering his shot gun, signalling to Dean to do the same. "Why are you still here? You should have moved on." He knew why of course; spirits of those who'd suffered a violent death rarely got the chance to move on peacefully, and often required a helping hand.

The woman's spirit drifted closer, flickering in and out.

"_She watched her daddy die; she's scared and I don't want to leave my baby behind."_ She whispered again. _"My husband worked for Marco, 'til he found out about the drugs. Marco was supplying them to our little girl's school."_

The spirit turned, picked up her daughter, then pointed at a patch of floor. It was a rectangular shape and coloured slightly differently to the rest of the surrounding cement floor.

John suddenly understood, and swallowed back the urge to vomit. Marco clearly had a fixation with burying people alive.

But in concrete…_sonofabitch!_

Dean stared at the unmarked grave; he was thinking of Sam. If they didn't find him soon, he'd end up the same way. When he glanced up, he realised the little girl in her mother's arms was staring at him. Then she was suddenly in front of him, reaching out her tiny hand and touching it briefly to his shoulder.

Image after image ran through his head:

_Sam beaten senseless…_

_Sam being ruthlessly tied up…_

_Sam, inside the stifling trunk, mentally crying out to Dean for help…_

_Dean, please help me…_

_Sam being buried in a sandy grave…_

_Sam, in the darkness of the trunk, gasping, overheating…_

_Sam in despair, giving up…_

Dean gasped and swayed; he distantly heard his father calling out his name, and strong arms wrapped round him, lowering him to the cold stone floor.

"Dean what is it? You ok?"

Dean nodded unable to speak until he'd gotten his breath back. The images were powerful, all too real…

The little girl had given him one last image, before her mother smiled, turned and faded away, daughter tucked safely in her arms. Finally at peace.

John stared in amazement. "Well, that was easy." He hadn't even fired a shot.

Dean glanced up at his father. "I know where Sam is."

He scrambled to his feet, and headed back out of the warehouse, John in tow.

"How?" his dad insisted, as they climbed into the front of the stolen pickup. "The little girl? When she touched you…"

"Yeah Dad," Dean shook his head a little. The images, whilst helpful, had been pretty disturbing, more so than the video messages on Sam's cell phone. It had felt as though he was actually _there!_ "She showed me."

"Where to son?"

Dean told him.

"Hurry Dad. From what I saw, I don't think he has much time left."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

John didn't bother with stopping the truck, and just ploughed through the gates to the abandoned quarry.

Old clapboard buildings squatted silently in the dust and the heat, the sun a shimmering haze, threatening to scorch alive anything or anyone foolish enough to be out in it.

John had stopped off at a gas station on the way, whilst Dean raced inside and bought up as many bottles of water as he could carry. So now the truck skidded to a halt, and the two Winchesters leapt out, frantically searching for signs of their youngest, most vulnerable family member.

Shovels, water bottles, first aid kit, and a whole lot of anguish burdened the two men, and they shielded their eyes against the glare of the sun.

Until Dean spotted the recently disturbed sand.

"Dad over here!"

They both started digging.

And carried on digging. Dean and John grew ever more frantic; the car seemed to be buried impossibly deep.

_Hold on Sammy. I'm nearly there, just hold on for me…_

After way too much time had passed, Dean heard the _thunk_ as his shovel cracked against metal.

And he didn't wince.

He didn't care if he scratched the paint work, dented the bodywork, and if he'd driven a hole right through the engine block then he wouldn't have bat an eyelid.

Realising that they were nearly through, John used his shovel to trace an outline round the Impala, trying to determine which end was the trunk, in the hopes that it would prove quicker than trying to uncover the entire car.

Slowly – _too slowly -_ the trunk was revealed, sand either falling away or being scraped off the top.

Trying to get it open proved challenging. A glue-like substance had been squirted into the lock and it had set as a hard resin, rendering the lock impregnable.

"Shit!" Dean hammered on the lid of the trunk. "Sammy?"

John and Dean glanced at each other in despair when no answer came, not even a weak attempt to let them know he was there by tapping his feet against the trunk.

John raised his shovel and used it to try to shatter the lock.

It took time but eventually John succeeded, and as the lid was opened…

"Oh Sammy!"

Sam was lying on his side, panting into the oxygen mask, wrists cuffed behind him, face mostly obscured by the gag and blindfold.

Dean didn't hesitate and reached in, scooping his little brother up in his arms. "Dad water!" Dean winced at the mass of bruising on Sam's face, and worse was revealed as he carefully but quickly removed the plastic mask, followed by the blindfold, and then the gag. The handcuffs would have to wait for now.

But John, moving to shield his family from the sun, already had a bottle wrenched open, and began holding it to Sam's lips, whilst Dean supported his head.

Sam's breathing was fast and laboured, probably due to a combination of the heat and the drugs in his system. He choked; rejecting the water at first, but soon began gulping greedily.

"Easy Sam, not too fast or you'll make yourself sick." John pulled the bottle away for a second, and his heart broke for his youngest son as Sam whimpered at the loss of the cool liquid.

"P..please…wa…water…m'too..h.hot…"

"Hey Sammy, its ok you can have some more in a second. Just get your breath back first." Dean glanced up his father worriedly when Sam seemed to grow weaker and more distressed. His head was lolling against his brother's shoulder, obviously delirious from the heat. "Dad, we need to get him to a hospital."

John nodded "Come on; let's get him to the truck." So with Dean carrying his barely conscious brother in his arms, they moved as quickly as they could.

"…wa…water…please…" Sam whispered, before passing out, breathing stuttering.

"Sam?" Dean stopped and shook him lightly, then realised that Sam's lips were gradually turning blue. "Dad he's stopped breathing!"

John took something out of his pocket as Dean laid Sam on his side in the sand.

"Get those cuffs off him." John passed the lock pick set to his eldest, before tackling the rope at Sam's ankles.

Dean set to work, noting the savage looking cuts on his little brother's wrists. The cuffs had been cruelly tight on Sam's young skin, the bruising fearful.

Finally freeing Sam from the hated metal, Dean rolled him roughly onto his back, then checked for a pulse. It was there all right, but it was a rapid, unsteady beat.

Tilting Sam's head back, he breathed for him, shocked at the heat coming from his little brother's skin.

"Come on Sam," John watched as his eldest son fought for Sam's life. "Don't give up on us now son."

Several more breaths and Dean was panicking. Resuscitation was failing to revive Sam, his life gradually slipping away.

"No, Sam you can't go. Not like this. Fight damnit!" Dean refused to give up and carried on forcing air into Sam's poor, battered body. He quickly became exhausted in the heat and his father had to take over, Dean watching helplessly, tears sliding down his face.

"Sammy please…" he whispered brokenly, and as soon as the words left his mouth Sam took a shuddering breath, eyelids fluttering, mouth gaping open as he struggled to pull air into his own lungs. Dean immediately cradled his brother in his arms again, smoothing the soft fringe back from his flushed face, relieved to see the worrying blue tinge slowly fade from his lips. "Shhhh, I gotcha. Just take it easy little brother. You're safe now…"

Sam's eyes fully opened for the first time since they'd found him, and stared up at Dean, trying to focus through the fever. Blinking rapidly, he reached a hand up to Dean's face as if not quite believing he was there, but he didn't have the strength to hold it there for long, and his hand fell away.

"I'm here Sammy, you're safe. We're gonna take you to a hospital and you're gonna be fine…" Dean's voice trailed off at the look of fear and confusion on Sam's face.

"What is it Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam started to panic. "Ca…can't…h…hear y.you."

As Dean stared back at him, a nasty feeling opening a painful pit in his stomach, then gently turned Sam's head to the side.

_Oh god! That's he hasn't been responding to us._

Checking the other ear confirmed it.

The same stuff that had been used to sabotage the lock on the trunk had been poured into Sam's ears, and left to set.

_No wonder the poor kid can't hear me!_

John had been urgently twisting the cap off another bottle of water when he sensed Dean's outraged shock. "Dean what is it?"

"Dad…" Dean whispered, staring at his little brother's frightened face. "Look what they've done to him."

John leaned over as Dean turned Sam's head once more.

The inside of his ears were red and sore looking, clearly irritated by the hardened glue.

Dean glanced at his father's face as Sam trembled in his arms, and sensed John's inner struggle to keep his anger at bay.

John's face twitched and his eyes hardened. "Get him in the truck. Let's go." His voice low and heated.

Sam's eyes slid closed again as Dean carried him to the truck and slid into the passenger side.

Even though Sam couldn't hear him, he continued to murmur soft words of comfort as he allowed him small sips of water, pouring some of it over his forehead and neck.

John drove the truck in silence, occasionally glancing over at his sons, worry eating at him.

But his anger was always simmering below the surface, made worse by the sight of Sam's battered form and heart breaking whimpers of pain.

_Marco you bastard!_

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

As promised, the next chapter. Let me know what ya think!

Many thanks for all your reviews. I think I got round to replying to you all but if not then I apologise and promise to do better in future.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	5. Chapter 5

**In The Arms of Love Chapter 5**

"Hurry Dad!" Dean watched his little brother with a sense of growing desperation. But John was already driving fast enough to outrun all the hounds of Hell.

Sam was shaking and whimpering the whole time, staring up at Dean through half closed eyes as though his big brother was his only lifeline.

When he heard Sam's breathing become even more laboured, John increased his speed.

"Hold on Sammy." Dean whispered, wishing his brother could hear him. Instead he had to mouth the words in the hopes that he was understood, but Sam just continued to stare at him, breath coming in short shallow gasps.

Suddenly the truck screeched to a halt outside the entrance to the hospital, and Dean leapt out, clutching his precious burden to his chest, John following on.

As soon as they burst through the entrance to the ER, shouting for help, medical staff immediately took charge.

"Go on ahead with your brother Dean, I'll fill in the paperwork." John gave Dean _that _look.

Dean nodded. His father was going to _explain_ things.

Being a hunter of supernatural evil whilst maintaining a low profile from the authorities meant having to be a pretty effective bullshitter. And John Winchester was one of the best.

Dean was cut off from his brother as Sam was loaded onto a gurney, already being poked and prodded by an army of strangers. He was clearly scared by all the attention and started weakly fighting them off; Dean shoved his way through, grabbing Sam's hand.

"You're scaring him, just let me stay. I can keep him calm."

Reluctantly the medical staff agreed for the time being.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

As bullshit went, John spun a real whopper. Even he was amazed they fell for it.

_Knew I was good but hell! Are these people really that gullible?_

But then, he reflected, they were too busy trying to stabilise his youngest son to worry too much about the explanations. Any holes that became apparent later on could easily be filled.

But at the moment he had them believing that Sam had been a victim of a severe bullying incident at his school. He'd been attacked and beaten, tied up, drugged and shut in someone's car trunk in the midday sun as a joke, and nearly suffocated when he ran out of air. It managed to explain away the dehydration, the bruises, and the abrasions on his wrists, and even somehow accounted for the glue in his ears.

"…another cruel joke," John had explained with genuine sadness.

What had made it easier was that one of the nursing staff had children that had recently been badly bullied at school, and her face had hardened with anger as John employed his best 

'devastated angry father' routine, which didn't take a lot of effort on John's part; he _was_ angry and devastated. She'd immediately sympathised, and on discussion with the ER doctor, Dean had been allowed to accompany his traumatised brother into the examination room, provided he kept out of the way.

John hated lying to people, especially over such an emotive issue as bullying in this day and age, where it seemed to be ever on the increase, but he'd little choice. There was no way he could tell the truth.

When asked he merely replied that the school principle and the cops were already dealing with it as discreetly as possible, so as not to tarnish the school's otherwise perfect reputation. Which meant that John didn't have to name the school.

As someone had once told him: bullshit baffles brains every time.

Next up John put in an anonymous tip to the cops about the unmarked grave in the warehouse, and its links to Marco.

Then he went to find his boys.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean and John waited anxiously as the doctor, who had introduced himself to them as Dr 'Mac' Mackenzie, examined Sam's ears.

It had taken some time to get to this stage since Sam was suffering from severe heat stroke, and his breathing kept faltering.

Sam had originally fought off the oxygen mask and only Dean knew why. So they compromised with a nasal oxygen tube.

Dean had watched in fear as Sam drifted in and out of consciousness when the medical staff set about cooling him down with cold packs.

An IV line had been set up almost immediately to try and rehydrate him. It had been an all out battle at every stage, harrowing for both brothers, but especially for Sam as he had absolutely no idea what was happening to him, his temperature still raging out of control.

Dean had kept a firm grip on his little brother's hand whenever he could without compromising Sam's safety. Whenever Sam became distressed, Dean was there, calming him, stroking his head soothingly.

But now, several hours later, Sam lay on his back, head turned to one side, drowsy from exhaustion, his young body still trying to recover from the heat stroke. The doctor tried to be gentle but the irritation in Sam's ears had gotten worse, and he made small noises of pain when they were touched.

Dr Mackenzie glanced up at John and Dean regretfully. "His skin's had a severe allergic reaction to the glue. I think I can get the glue out but it's gonna hurt him. I'm reluctant to put him under an anaesthetic given all he's been through today, but if I leave it any longer I'm worried his ears drums will be permanently damaged, though I'm hoping the glue never made it that far in. Do I have your permission to continue?"

"Go ahead." John nodded sadly. He didn't like the idea of either of his boys being in pain, but he also didn't like the thought of them losing one of their five senses, leaving them vulnerable to attack on a hunt.

The doctor proceeded to flush Sam's ears with warm saline, in the hope that this would clean the affected area and also soften the glue a little. Sam cried out as the salt water stung the irritated surface and Dean helped Dr Mackenzie by keeping Sam's head still when he tried to jerk away, all the while stroking his hair. Dean and John both had to harden their resolve at hearing Sam in such pain, tempted to demand that the doctor stop what he was doing, but that wouldn't have done Sam any favours.

Once the flushing was over, the doctor applied some dilute acetone; the room soon smelt like nail varnish remover and Sam was writhing in agony once again.

"D..Dean. Make it stop…pl..please…"

Dean felt his heart breaking and had to blink back tears several times.

"Dean…it hurts. Why are you doing this to me? P…please stop!"

"Oh Sammy, I'm so sorry," Dean whispered. "I shouldn't have told you to leave on your own. I should've gone with you. I'm never lettin' ya outta my sight. No one's gonna hurt you again, not while I'm around. I promise."

This alternate flushing with saline and acetone went on for some time with Dean and John taking turns to hold Sam down. Eventually Sam passed out from exhaustion, and Dean, John 

and Mac all heaved a sigh of relief for the poor kid's sake; they were able to continue the treatment without further interruption.

Whilst Sam was out of it, Mac took the opportunity to replace the nasal tube with an oxygen mask.

On seeing Dean's worried glance he smiled. "Just whilst he's unconscious ok? He needs all the help he can get right now. He still has a fever and breathing is still a struggle for him."

Dean nodded, his jaw clenched, determined to insist it was taken off once Sam woke up.

Whilst his father was out making phone calls, trying to track down Marco, Dean refused to leave his brother's bedside, and grew more and more protective the longer Sam remained unconscious.

In the early hours of the morning a young nurse came in to check Sam's vitals and found her every movement dogged by a very suspicious and intimidating Dean.

"How's he doin'?" Dean rasped out, voice hoarse from overuse. He'd talked and talked all night, hoping that his little brother could now hear him. He glanced down at her name tag.

RN Benny Hartley.

_Benny?_ He thought to himself in vague amusement. _What the hell kinda name is that? What did she do to piss off her parents?_

"His temperature is still too high, but it's slowly coming down," replied Benny, not in the least bit worried by Dean's over-bearing behaviour. She, too, had a younger brother, so she understood where he was coming from.

The nurse smiled to herself as she changed her patient's IV bag.

Dean was still hovering, watching her actions for any hint that she might be a threat to Sam. His eyes narrowed as she checked the IV port in Sam's arm for any signs of infection.

_Ok. Now he's going too far. He'll drive himself crazy if he carries on like this._

"Mr Winchester," she said quietly, "Sam's still badly dehydrated so I'm giving him some more fluids. Why don't you go home and get some rest? I'll call you if…" Her voice trailed off when she saw the murderous expression on his face. "Oookay. I'll just leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything."

She quickly finished up and left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Dean huffed, feeling more than a little embarrassed. He knew he was being over the top, but he just couldn't help it.

He grabbed a fresh damp wash cloth and pressed it to Sam's forehead as his brother shivered and mumbled something unintelligible. As he listened, Dean soon found he could make out the words in Sam's fevered ranting, and his heart sank. In Sam's nightmare, he was still trapped in the Impala's trunk, terrified and alone.

"No! Please…don't…let me out…can't breathe…I can't…help me!" Sam pawed clumsily at the oxygen mask.

Dean finally allowed the tears to spill down his face on hearing those desperate cries. Grasping his brother's hands together, he repeated his earlier promise.

"No one comes near you. No one's gonna hurt you again." He whispered. "I swear to you Sam. They'll have to come through me first."

He watched in despair as Sam's head rolled from side to side, fighting to get his hands free.

Dean frowned deeply as he reached out and felt Sam's forehead. His brother's temperature was rising again.

"D…Dad…Dean…please…don't leave me here-" Sam's cries for help were abruptly cut off when he started convulsing violently.

"Sam!" Dean leapt to his feet, pressed the call button, then grabbed a firm hold on his kid brother to keep him from harming himself. Those terrible, muffled, strangled gasps from behind Sam's mask would haunt Dean for many years to come.

"I gotcha kiddo." He whispered as he tucked Sam carefully into his arms, feeling the frightening full body jerks clear right through to his soul.

He barely glanced up when the door was flung open and the nurse rushed in.

"What's happened?"

"His fever just got worse and now he's having some kind of seizure."

Benny nodded then headed for the bathroom, and Dean could hear the squeak of a tap being turned followed by gushing water. When she re-emerged she headed straight for Sam and inserted a thermometer into his ear as carefully as she could. Sam ears were still badly irritated by the glue, but with the convulsions there was no way she was placing the thermometer in his mouth. On seeing the readout, she removed the mask from Sam's face and grabbed the IV pole.

"You got him?" At Dean's nod, she motioned for him to follow her to the bathroom. "Let's get him in the tub. We've got to get his temperature down _now!"_

Dean lowered his little brother into the bath. The water was cool but not icy, though Sam still shuddered and fought against it, while the nurse set the IV pole down beside the tub.

"Hold him still in case he pulls on the IV." She started pouring water over Sam's body, the hospital pyjamas clinging to him like a second skin.

Dean held on tight to Sam as he watched the nurse work calmly and urgently to cool his brother down.

After what seemed like an eternity, relief flooded through him when he realised Sam was no longer convulsing.

"Dean…" came a faint whisper.

Dean leaned back a little to find his brother watching him through bloodshot eyes. "Sammy? You ok buddy?"

Sam's eyes widened and he started shaking his head furiously. "No no no…I can't hear you…why can't I hear you?" His breathing picked up as his panic levels rose. "Dean! I can't hear you…" His voice broke and he started crying.

The nurse stopped what she was doing to run into Sam's room and fetch the oxygen tank. As soon as she returned she fixed the mask back onto her patient, who was by now letting out a high pitched keening noise, reminding her of an injured puppy.

Dean stared at him.

_The glue had been removed but Sam still can't hear?_

_Oh god no!_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

Go on say it. 'ST you are one mean bitch'

Yep. Can't argue with you on that one.

So as we slouch ever onwards to Bethlehem, hope you're still enjoying this and many thanks for your encouraging reviews. Considering I'm making this up as I go along, I've not done too badly eh?

Thanks for reading.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	6. Chapter 6

**In The Arms of Love Chapter 6**

**From "In the Arms of Love" by T'Pau (album Rage).**

"_**Hurry Dad!" Dean watched his little brother with a sense of growing desperation. But John was already driving fast enough to outrun all the hounds of Hell.**_

_**Sam was shaking and whimpering the whole time, staring up at Dean through half closed eyes as though his big brother was his only lifeline.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Dean frowned deeply as he reached out and felt Sam's forehead. His brother's temperature was rising again.**_

"_**D…Dad…Dean…please…don't leave me here-" Sam's cries for help were abruptly cut off when he started convulsing violently.**_

"_**Sam!" Dean leapt to his feet, pressed the call button, then grabbed a firm hold on his kid brother to keep him from harming himself. Those terrible, muffled, strangled gasps from behind Sam's mask would haunt Dean for many years to come.**_

"_**I gotcha kiddo." He whispered as he tucked Sam carefully into his arms, feeling the frightening full body jerks clear right through to his soul.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"_**Dean…" came a faint whisper.**_

_**Dean leaned back a little to find his brother watching him through bloodshot eyes. "Sammy? You ok buddy?"**_

_**Sam's eyes widened and he started shaking his head furiously. "No no no…I can't hear you…why can't I hear you?" His breathing picked up as his panic levels rose. "Dean! I can't hear you…" His voice broke and he started crying.**_

_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_

"Bobby? That you?"

"Yeah. Listen John, someone up at Harvelle's ran into one of Marco's employees."

"And?"

Bobby gave out a heavy sigh. "The upshot of it is, he knows it was you. And he aint happy."

"Huh. Guess that comes as no surprise." John smirked.

"John I think you need to get your boys as far away from there as you can. Just go. Caleb and I can hold Marco off long enough for you guys to get to a safe house."

John tightened his grip on the cell phone as anxiety spilled into his blood stream like battery acid. "Why? What's happened?"

There came the sound of Bobby clearing his throat. "Marco never expected Sam to live. He had no intention of telling you where he was holding the kid. Now he's not only found out that Sam survived, but he's got the fuzz breathing down his neck and knows you're directly responsible."

John stared off into the distance, not entirely surprised Marco had guessed at that one. But that the bastard had left Sam for dead...he sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to calm down.

"Let me guess. He's got a contract out on me."

A brief pause followed before Bobby spoke again. "All three of ya, but mainly Sam 'cos he doesn't like to lose. Ya gotta move John, and fast. He's coming for ya."

John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "There's just one problem. Sam still needs medical care. He nearly died of heat stroke in the early hours of the morning, and that's just the start."

"John?" Bobby sounded as worried as John felt.

"Uh...even though they removed the glue from Sam's ears...he still can't hear Bobby."

"Shit!" Bobby breathed angrily.

"Yeah." John nodded to himself. "That's pretty much what Dean and I are thinkin' right now."

"How's Dean takin' all this?"

"He's the same ol' Dean but then some. You know how protective he gets with Sam? Well this time he's a whole lot worse. This morning when the orderlies brought Sam his breakfast, Dean wouldn't let him touch a bite 'til he'd taste tested every bit."

"Sure that just aint Dean's appetite at work there John?" Bobby responded with a chuckle.

John had to smile at that. "Normally? I'd agree. But Sam asked for muesli and fresh fruit; Dean hates muesli, once referred to it as the scrapings out of a pigeon loft. And as for Dean and fresh fruit? They go together 'bout as well as cabbage and custard." John frowned a little. "Yet, he still insisted on tasting every bit of Sam's food, even his fruit juice. No Bobby, somethin's got Dean spooked."

"You tried talking to him about it?"

"Yep. But he doesn't understand why he feels the way he does. Just puts it down to the scare of finding Sam in that damn trunk. Speakin' of which..."

"The Impala's been taken care of. She's sitting here right now; I'll get started on repairin' those dents and scratches soon enough." There was the rustling of clothing as Bobby shifted his shirt sleeve for a look at his watch. "I've organised a truck for ya. Should be there soon. Give me a call later, and I strongly suggest you talked to Sam's doctor. It might be worth 

tellin' him the truth, or at least a sane soundin' version of it. Maybe he could recommend another doctor in the next state over."

"Sure. Talk later." John disconnected the call and stared out across the parking lot. His eyes moved slow, taking in even the slightest details, checking and observing his surroundings for any signs of trouble. Through all this, running in the background of his troubled mind was the program entitled "Dean and Sam". His eldest son was still very young, but already his instincts were developing at an exponential rate. Dean had a strong sixth sense when it came to his little brother, and John marvelled at the fact Dean had known Sam's life was still in danger long before Bobby had confirmed it.

Shaking his head and smiling with pride, John chuckled. It didn't stop there either. Sam was just as protective of Dean, and knew when his big brother was in trouble.

Sam and Dean shared the kind of bond that was usually experienced by identical twins, and John was immensely grateful for that, even if he sometimes felt a little jealous of it.

It would save their lives one day.

John might not have been as intellectual as his youngest child, but he wasn't stupid. He knew the day was coming when Sam would make a decision to leave.

It _had_ to happen.

But that didn't mean John was going to like it. Sam had always been a smart and fiercely independent boy, something John was secretly proud of, but the thought of Sam out there in the world without his dad and big brother to protect him frightened the shit out of John.

Sam didn't feel that he was a true hunter, but John and Dean knew differently. Research was definitely Sam's forte, but he could take down a black dog as effectively and ruthlessly as Dean.

Not for the first time, John wondered where Sam's lack of confidence came from, and could only conclude that it was the military upbringing he'd subjected his sons to. Dean had taken to it like a duck to water, but Sam was a whole lot different. It had taken a few heart to hearts with Bobby and Pastor Jim for John to accept that different didn't necessarily mean unreliable. And it wasn't before long that a very young Sam had compounded that theory with some pretty impressive evidence.

More sensitive, yes. Constantly questioning, yes. But Sam was also a team player and as tough as they came.

It was gonna take experience for him to realise just how good he really was. But in the meantime, Sam had to find his own way; it couldn't be forced on him.

In spite of John's own common sense, he knew his own limits, knew Sam's temper could easily match his own. There were gonna be some real bad rows in their futures.

But Sam was still too young, and now he was even more vulnerable.

One final sweep of the hospital parking lot, and John turned and strode back to Sam's room, satisfied that Marco and his cronies hadn't yet found them.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean paused at the door to his little brother's room, coffee cup in hand. He glanced around nervously before entering. Sam was staring out the window again, so Dean made his way carefully round the bed, placing himself in Sam's line of sight. Dean and John had already learned the hard way not to approach Sam unless he knew they were there.

The first time Sam had cried out and jumped from the bed about to leap out the window, before turning to face them. The expression of sheer terror on his little brother's face had almost broken Dean's heart again.

It wasn't just the hearing loss affecting Sam. Dean was pretty certain that the ordeal of being abducted, beaten and locked in a trunk in the height of a heat wave was just as responsible for Sam's fear. He'd heard an expression for it once: PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Sam hadn't, _couldn't_ have known that he'd also been buried alive, and Dean was determined to make sure that he never found out. His baby brother had enough to deal with.

And besides, there was that nagging feeling Sam wasn't yet out of danger. Dean knew he was still being over the top, but that didn't matter.

When Sam's temperature had finally come down, he'd slept most of the day. When he'd woken up, Sam's doctor had examined his ears, and all the while he kept his eyes on Dean. Though Sam barely spoke now, Dean knew what he was asking him. He wanted Dean make this all go away, make it _not true_. He wanted to know that everything was going to be all right.

But Mac told Dean the truth, and though he tried to hide it, Sam saw that truth in his eyes.

The glue had found its way into Sam's ear drums and caused a violent inflammation. The resulting damage, unfortunately, would likely be permanent.

What surprised Dean the most was the lack of reaction. Sam clearly new, but he said, _did,_ nothing. No angry yelling, no crying, no silent tears. He'd just turned away and stared out the window again.

Dean felt his heart pounding with anguish. He asked the doctor to stay on for a few more minutes whilst he raced down to the hospital gift shop. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he headed out to the nearest stationary store.

And now, having picked up a much needed caffeine shot on the way, he was back with Sam.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam could always sense his older brother, but as he couldn't hear when the door to his room opened, he was still a little startled whenever Dean seemed to appear from nowhere.

Dean held out the whiteboard and a set of marker pens, and smiled.

Sam glanced up at his brother, then stared at what would become their communications device.

Dean swiftly wrote on the board.

_HOW 'BOUT A GAME OF HANG MAN LITTLE BUDDY?_

The response was a sad and frightened gaze.

"I-Is this h-ow it's g-gonna be from now on?" Sam whispered forlornly, not able to make out his own voice that well.

Dean's smile faded, then he nodded, picked out a bright blue marker and started writing on the board.

_FOR NOW DUDE. THEN WE'RE BOTH GONNA LEARN SIGN LANGUAGE, AND I'M GONNA HELP YOU LEARN TO LIP READ._

Dean watched him carefully before adding:

_IT'LL BE OK SAMMY I PROMISE. JUST TRUST ME. WE'LL WORK SOMETHING OUT._

Sam just stared up him, not knowing what to say. In truth, he felt comforted by Dean's enthusiasm to help him communicate but he was still scared shitless. The future, once bright and filled with so many possibilities, now seemed as bleak as a wintry sky. Sam wasn't stupid. He knew that deaf people could make a success of their lives, even in the music industry if Beethoven was anything to go by, but for a hunter? It meant certain death.

What worried Sam the most was the thought of getting his father and brother killed. It wouldn't take much, just the odd missed footstep, snapped twig, or piece of falling masonry, and one of them could be wiped out.

All because Sam couldn't hear trouble coming.

He didn't recall too much from the last twenty four hours or so, but he did remember the terror of waking up to a world gone silent. At first he'd thought it was some kind of horror movie, where everyone on the planet had been wiped out, and it was just him. But just by turning his head, he'd realised that his father and brother were with him, talking to him, smiling reassuringly at him. But he couldn't hear a damned thing.

To say it freaked him out was an understatement, and he didn't know how to react. So he didn't, and chose to just stare out the window.

It wasn't that he was trying to ignore his family, more that he was trying to sort things through in his head.

But now Dean was standing before him, whiteboard and marker at the ready, refusing to give up on his little brother.

Sam gazed at him, feeling the tears building in the corners of his eyes.

"W-what's g-gonna happen now?" Sam asked fearfully. "Dean, what am I s.." He felt himself start to panic, his breath coming quick and harsh. He tried again. "W-what am I s-supposed to do now?"

Dean's expression changed from one of fortitude and hope, to that of sympathy and worry. He sat himself down on Sam's bed, and to Sam's utter surprise, grabbed him up in a big hug. Sam clung to his brother, finally allowing the tears to flow. He buried his head in Dean's chest and felt Dean stroking his hair as he rocked him to and fro.

They stayed like that for a while as Sam silently cried it out.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

John was more than a little surprised when he finally made it to Sam's room, and found his two sons hugging.

_Hmm. Future blackmail material here?_ He thought to himself. _Dean? Clean your room or I'll tell your friends..._

The amused thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Dean raised his head, broken hearted misery etched across his face. And John realised his youngest son was crying.

Mirroring Dean's earlier movements, John made his way round to the window as Dean leaned back a little so that Sam could see his father.

Seeing Sam's sad eyes and tear stained face was enough. John sat next to a distraught Dean, then drew both his sons into a tight embrace.

John knew he hadn't been the ideal father to his sons, but he did love them. And although he'd failed them on numerous occasions so far, there was no way he was losing his brave, proud boys to some piece of shit called Marco.

No. As soon as he got them all to safety, they were going to have a long talk. And John was taking Sam to see a specialist.

Whatever came at them, they would deal. If that truly meant Sam's hearing loss was permanent then they would just have to make some adjustments to stay alive.

No arguments.

John inwardly sighed, feeling pride in his sons.

At least not yet.

And for some strange reason that thought made him smile.

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_**Authors notes:**_

Well, I got that mushy part out of the way. And now comes the dreaded conversation with Mac, and then our three lads are going on the run...from the mafia of all things.

Hope you liked the brotherly and fatherly love here. Just wanted to portray John Winchester as something other than the single minded twat that everyone seems to think he is. The other night when I was on call I watched the episode where Sam and John had the long talk about 

when Sam took off to Stanford, and that's pretty much what inspired the angle of this chapter. After all, foot soldiers aren't as stupid as people think, and I'm guessing that John knew his sons better than Kripke makes out.

Hope you don't mind me exploring it a little further.

Many thanks for all your reviews my darlings. Much appreciated.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	7. Chapter 7

**In the Arms of Love Chapter 7**

**Taken from the song by T'Pau, album Rage. Getting pretty appropriate don't you think?**

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"_**Marco never expected Sam to live. He had no intention of telling you where he was holding the kid. Now he's not only found out that Sam survived, but he's got the fuzz breathing down his neck and knows you're directly responsible."**_

_**John stared off into the distance, not entirely surprised Marco had guessed at that one. But that the bastard had left Sam for dead...he sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to calm down.**_

"_**Let me guess. He's got a contract out on me."**_

_**A brief pause followed before Bobby spoke again. "All three of ya, but mainly Sam, 'cos he doesn't like to lose. Ya gotta move John, and fast. He's coming for ya."**_

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"_**I've organised a truck for ya. Should be there soon. Give me a call later, and I strongly suggest you talked to Sam's doctor. It might be worth tellin' him the truth, or at least a sane soundin' version of it. Maybe he could recommend another doctor in the next state over."**_

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_**Dean was standing before him, whiteboard and marker at the ready, refusing to give up on his little brother.**_

_**Sam gazed at him, feeling the tears building in the corners of his eyes.**_

__

"_**W-what's g-gonna happen now?" Sam asked fearfully. "Dean, what am I s.." He felt himself start to panic, his breath coming quick and harsh. He tried again. "W-what am I s-supposed to do now?"**_

_**Dean's expression changed from one of fortitude and hope, to that of sympathy and worry. He sat himself down on Sam's bed, and to Sam's utter surprise, grabbed him up in a big hug. Sam clung to his brother, finally allowing the tears to flow. He buried his head in Dean's chest and felt Dean stroking his hair as he rocked him to and fro.**_

_**They stayed like that for a while as Sam silently cried it out.**_

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_**John realised his youngest son was crying.**_

_**Mirroring Dean's earlier movements, John made his way round to the window as Dean leaned back a little so that Sam could see his father.**_

_**Seeing Sam's sad eyes and tear stained face was enough. John sat next to a distraught Dean, then drew both his sons into a tight embrace.**_

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John definitely wasn't looking forward to this. By opting to remove Sam from hospital before he was fully recovered he ran the risk of the Child Protection Services being called in, 

but what kind of protection could those idiots offer Sam and Dean against someone like Marco? He was going to have to be straight with the good doctor as Bobby suggested, with only the _slightest_ twist to the tale.

Pausing to take a deep calming breath, John plastered on a concerned smile and knocked on Mac's door. At the soft sounding "Come in" John entered the room and once again indulged in the dubious art of bullshitting.

"Mac thanks for seein' me at short notice, I know you're a busy man." John sat in the leather seat opposite the doctor.

"Not at all. Sam's having a hard time of it right now; he's scared, confused and still not one hundred percent yet." Mac leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Anything I can do to help..."

There was an uncomfortable silence. John had the nastiest feeling that Mac was gonna see straight through his lies, so he adjusted his tale to run as close to the truth as he dared.

"I was hoping you could give the name of a specialist that could help Sam, only it can't be here. I need somewhere safe to take my boys whilst Sam recovers." John began.

Mac immediately leaned forward in his seat, concerned eyes peering at John. "Mr Winchester...John...I can assure you that your sons are more than safe here. We have excellent security systems in place..."

"Not from this." John stared hard at the doctor.

After a brief pause Mac nodded. "Ok..."

John originally planned to tell the doctor that he had an important business meeting that he just couldn't miss, but it was on the other side of the country. He would take Sam to see a specialist there. But it sounded lame even to his own ears, not to mention heartless.

_So._

John explained that he was a private investigator with certain specialist skills, and had run afoul of a mobster by the name of Marco Del Vecchio. In short, John had informed the cops of Marco's illegal habits and the bastard had taken his revenge out on Sam.

Mac's eyes widened when John told him that Marco was pursuing him even now.

"That doesn't surprise me. You told the _local_ cops?" When John nodded Mac sighed. "Marco has half the law round here in his pocket, and the other half are too scared to stop him." Mac sat back wearily. "And anyone who's not on the take isn't trusted by the ones that are." He glanced at John. "I'm half surprised he isn't on to you already."

John gave him a half smile. "They aint gonna storm the hospital publically, and as you said: this place has pretty decent security. So no, they'll try something more subtle. They'll wait for an opportunity to sneak in an' finish us off. And it wouldn't be hard. We can't carry weapons round here; we're sitting ducks." Though he wasn't showing it, John was terrified by what Mac had told him. It was gonna make it doubly hard to get out of the state without being stopped by bent cops. He'd been prepared to give the doctor twenty four hours to come up with a name, but now he had to cut that time short. He needed to get his sons far away from here as soon as possible. Decision made, John stood and held out his hand.

"Thanks for your time doc." The two men shook hands, Mac more than a little worried by this sudden goodbye.

"John?"

"I'm sorry Mac, but I've gotta get my kids outta here before he finds us."

"John wait!"

John, his hand on the doorknob, stopped and turned towards Mac expectantly.

Mac held his hands palm outwards. "Just give me thirty minutes ok? I know someone that can help. But I have some calls to make first."

John stared at him for long time, searching his eyes for any sign of betrayal. When he came up with nothing but genuine concern, John nodded. "Thirty minutes. I'll be in Sam's room."

And left the silent _if you aint there by then we'll be gone_ hanging in the air.

The first thing he did once he was out of the doctor's office was call Bobby.

"Where are ya?"

"'Bout fifteen minutes away. Been travelling all godamn night." Bobby grumbled on the other end of the line, and in spite of the dire circumstances John chuckled. It was good to know some things hadn't changed.

"We might need a change of plan." And repeated the conversation he had with Mac.

Bobby was silent for a moment. "I have an idea. Just get your boys together and meet me as planned."

Both men agreed and the call was disconnected, leaving John wondering what Bobby had in mind.

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Dean didn't know the first thing about teaching someone to lip read. So he decided to improvise, or _wing it_ as he so succinctly put it. He grinned with pleasure when his little 

brother burst in to fits of laughter at one of his dirty jokes, written in upper case letters on the white board. When a young nurse, probably a student, had appeared at one point to check Sam's temperature again and seen the joke, she'd blushed at little then left in a hurry, all at the same time casting sidelong shy glances at Dean.

"Dean, t-there's no way _anyone_ c-could've gotten that from r-reading your lips!" Sam spluttered.

Dean's grin widened and the pen could be heard squeaking across the white board once more.

_THAT'S NOT WHAT JANEY HARRISON FROM THE NEXT BLOCK TOLD ME DUDE!_

And followed this up with an obscene gesture using only his mouth, which had Sam alternatively wretching and giggling.

They'd spent most of the day like this, Dean with his own brand of lip reading lessons and Sam nearly dying of laughter.

Dean felt more than proud of his little brother. Sam had been through a terrifying experience, and yet still found it within him to laugh. Most people would've buckled under the strain, but his Sammy carried on shining through.

That's not to say he didn't have a whole lot of healing to do. And Dean was gonna make sure he got the chance.

He'd also felt a subtle change in his father too, over the last few days. But then finding one of your sons locked in a trunk, buried alive in a heat wave would do that to anyone with a pulse.

To have not only seen, _really_ seen, Sam's distress was one thing, but for his father to have noticed _both_ his sons in pain, enough to sweep them into a family hug...that was unprecedented.

And entirely welcome. Dad was out of hunter mode, and into full protective father mode. And that was fine by Dean.

If Sam had died, Dean was pretty sure he would've soon followed. Sam wasn't just a responsibility or a 'little brother' burden. Sam was _his _to protect right from the day he was born. And as strange as other people might've seen it, Sam had deserved it. Dean loved his little brother's unique sense of humour and mischief, but also admired his own brand of smarts and bravery. Sam was a damn fine hunter. And it was up to Dean to make sure he came to realise that, no matter what the future held.

All the while these thoughts ran through Dean's head, he carried on entertaining his brother, not realising just how much Sam was learning from him. The kid was soaking the knowledge up like a sponge in water.

Occasionally, Sam would give a little grimace of pain whenever his injured ribs protested, or his split lip started bleeding again from too much laughter, and Dean would start fussing like a mother hen, plumping Sam's pillow, brushing his little brother's hair back to get a closer look at the whopping great bruises on his poor face. Once Sam spent some minutes answering the frantically written questions on the white board, in order to assure his worried older brother that, _no_ he wasn't too hot or cold, _no_ he could breathe just fine, and _no_ the fever hadn't returned, the jovial lessons began again.

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John leaned against the door frame, just happy to watch his boys having a little fun. It wasn't often they got the chance and they sure as hell deserved it after the last few days. And in spite of all the snorting and guffawing going on, John was pleased to note that Sam was making progress, but then it helped when the student was super smart, and the teacher was...well...Dean. Dean had an uncanny way of making learning fun for Sam, and John wondered if one day Dean would become a teacher. He'd certainly make a good one, after all Dean was never one to take a back seat, always wanting to try new things. And he'd never expect anything of Sam that he couldn't do himself.

One day.

If..._when_ this was all over.

He had to believe in _when_ not _if_ they found Mary's killer. He'd spent the last nearly fourteen years on the hunt for the bastard, and had come so close several times that it was all John could do not to roar with frustration and rage when the fucker slipped through his grasp again.

But that had to be put on hold for now. His boys were the priority here and they needed him to keep them safe. John's heart clenched painfully remembering the moment they'd unearthed the Impala and finally got the trunk open. The sight of his youngest son lying there, desperately panting in an effort to cool down, dehydrating, helplessly bound, gagged, and drugged, made John feel nauseous with fear.

And when Sam had stopped breathing...

John whirled silently away from the door, back out into the hallway and ran for the restroom.

Crashing to his knees in the first available cubicle, he vomited violently, ruthlessly emptying his stomach.

Eventually he sat up and, still on his knees, leaned sideways against the cubicle wall. If losing his wife had broken his heart in ways that could never be fixed, then losing either of his sons would surely kill him.

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Bobby hadn't even turned onto the main road outside of the hospital and he could already feel the wolves circling. Marco and his cohorts knew where the Winchesters were, and they were waiting for their chance. Bobby had spotted a few so called 'innocent' glances towards the hospital entrance from road sweepers and parking control officers alike.

Road sweepers at this time of the day? Ha!

Parking control? Not a damn car in sight. Clearly Marco's cronies didn't think anyone round here would notice enough to put two and two together, and even if they did, would they care?

Right. Plan B.

Or C...

Um...

Truth be told, Bobby wasn't altogether sure which plan they were on by now, they'd been forced to change it so many god damn times.

He picked up his cell phone and called John, about to suggest another change of plans. There was no way they could leave the hospital under this much scrutiny. Bobby was gonna have to change the car for something else, at least for a while.

And the Winchesters would have leave under cover of darkness, which meant a further delay.

It was time they could ill afford to lose.

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_**Authors notes:**_

Well, they're about to move out. Can they evade Marco Del Vecchio's henchmen for long enough? And what has Bobby got up his sleeve to get them out?

Let me know what you think my darlin's. Reviews to my brain are the grease to the wheels of evolution: pretty bloody important.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	8. Chapter 8

**In The Arms of Love Chapter 8**

_**Title from the song by 80's rock band T'Pau. Album 'Rage'.**_

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"_**I was hoping you could give the name of a specialist that could help Sam, only it can't be here. I need somewhere safe to take my boys whilst Sam recovers." John began.**_

_**Mac immediately leaned forward in his seat, concerned eyes peering at John. "Mr Winchester...John...I can assure you that your sons are more than safe here. We have excellent security systems in place..."**_

"_**Not from this." John stared hard at the doctor.**_

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"_**I'm sorry Mac, but I've gotta get my kids outta here before he finds us."**_

"_**John wait!"**_

_**John, his hand on the doorknob, stopped and turned towards Mac expectantly.**_

_**Mac held his hands palm outwards. "Just give me thirty minutes ok? I know someone that can help. But I have some calls to make first."**_

_**John stared at him for long time, searching his eyes for any sign of betrayal. When he came up with nothing but genuine concern, John nodded. "Thirty minutes. I'll be in Sam's room."**_

__

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_**Bobby picked up his cell phone and called John, about to suggest another change of plans. There was no way they could leave the hospital under this much scrutiny. Bobby was gonna have to change the car for something else, at least for a while.**_

_**And the Winchesters would have to leave under cover of darkness, which meant a further delay.**_

_**It was time they could ill afford to lose.**_

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"Bobby? What's the story out there?"

"_Marco's here all right John or at least his goons are. He's watching the place pretty closely. Wouldn't surprise me if he's managed to get someone on the inside too. Probably posin' as a porter or somethin'."_

"Aw Crap."

"_Yep. That's one way of puttin' it. Your only real option is to leave after nightfall. There's a tradesmen entrance right at the back of the hospital with a loading bay. I'll meet ya there at midnight."_

"Midnight? He could have the entire buildin' wired for an explosion by then, and the loading bay? That's not gonna be easy to explain away a midnight visit via the usual route. What about goin' through the morgue?"

There was a silence, broken by a slight rustling noise.

"_Well, according to the blueprints, the morgue has its own emergency exit that also backs out on to the loading bay, so yeah. It's a viable option."_

"That's it then_. _We'll be seein' ya at 22:00. It'll give Sam some time to rest."

"_22:00. Right you are."_

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The next time John checked in on his boys Sam was struggling to stay awake. His eyes, still swollen from the beating he'd taken, were growing heavy and his speech was slurred.

"Sam, your exhausted kiddo," Dean put down the white board marker. "You've done real good today. Why doncha get some sleep huh?"

"'nother f...five minutes? P...please Dean?" Sam begged.

"That's the third 'nother five minutes' you've had so far," Dean chided softly. "You're pushin' yaself too hard."

"Where's Dad?" Sam asked, his puppy dog eyes shining with sadness.

They'd obviously had this conversation more than once since Sam was reading Dean's lips with no trouble. And John noticed how Dean kept his face turned to Sam's all the time.

"Sammy, he'll be here soon..." Dean began then looked up, catching sight of his father in the doorway. "Here he is buddy," Dean grinned broadly and pointed.

Sam turned his head and the relieved smile he gave his dad sent a pang of guilt through John. His youngest was relieved his father hadn't run off on another hunt, leaving him in the care of strangers as had happened on other occasions when Dean or Sam had been injured.

But what was going on with Marco...this was uncharted territory for John Winchester. He'd never before taken on the Mob. Ghosts, and all the other supernatural entities they hunted, rarely locked people in car trunks, buried them alive and later came after them in hospital.

It lacked a certain edge. Ghosts much preferred leaping out of the closet, screaming BOOO! And then took great delight in either smashing your head against the wall repeatedly, or skewering you with a poker.

In any case.

You salt, you burn, and you walk away. That was the beauty of hunting; it's simplicity.

Ok, so that was a sweeping generalisation; sometimes it got complicated, especially when witches, wendigos and werewolves were involved. But Marco Del Vecchio was unlike anyone John had ever met.

He was cold, hard, cruel, and _human_, as the Winchesters had found out nearly at the cost of Sam's life. But he _was_ a coward; John had been right in that respect.

Once John got his boys to safety, Sam was going to rest and heal, get professional help, and then they would re-group. John was determined that Marco wouldn't see the year out. He couldn't afford to _let _him, because the bastard wouldn't stop pursuing the Winchesters and he had the resources to track and eventually find them.

Pushing away from the doorframe, John smiled at his youngest son as he approached the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he reached out and gently grasped Sam's chin, turning his head this way and that, trying not to frown too deeply at the bruising. Inwardly he winced.

_God that must've hurt. The poor kid!_

Sam's face was a patchwork of deep reds, purples and the odd shade of yellow where some of the lighter bruises were already starting to change. John hid his anger well; this was about comforting Sam, an injured child, _his_ child. Not about John.

He gently ran his hand round to the back of Sam's head and gave an affectionate squeeze, lightly rubbing the soft curls of his son's ridiculously long hair.

"How ya feelin Sammy?" John asked peering into Sam's face.

"I..I'm o..ok Dad." Sam's eyes filled with unshed tears. He couldn't hear his father's voice but his memories filled him in.

"His ribs are still hurtin' him. And he's got a headache that he won't own up to." Dean spoke up quietly, voice unusually tense with worry.

John didn't glance away from Sam when he spoke. "Let's getcha somethin' for that huh?" he didn't ask how Dean knew about that, but he _always_ knew when Sam was sick and trying to hide it. "Then I want you to get some sleep ok? No arguments." He kept the smile on his face not wanting Sam to think he was angry, but he _did_ want him to understand that he was issuing him an order, not a request.

Sam nodded groggily, but was already fast asleep before John could reach for the call button.

He shrugged then turned to his oldest son. "We need to talk."

__

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Dean followed his father out into the hallway but both Winchesters, by silent agreement, kept the door to Sam's room open in case he woke up again.

"Dad?" Dean watched his father with some concern.

"I've just spoken to Bobby. We've gotta get outta here tonight." He raised a hand when he sensed his oldest son's protests. "Yeah, I know. I don't like it any more than you do ok? But Marco's still after us. Particularly Sam. He aint happy Sam escaped and he won't stop 'til he's dead." He huffed not wanting to add to Dean's fear but knowing that it was the only way to keep his family safe. "Marco's got the hospital surrounded, waiting for us to leave."

Dean slid down the wall until he was crouched, his face suddenly very pale, green eyes sparkling with worry. "Where do we go Dad? Where can we keep Sam safe?"

John joined him, companionably resting his back against the wall. "Mac's workin' on that as we speak. He knows what Marco's like, what he's capable of. Bobby's gonna meet us at the supplies store near the loading bay at 22:00." He reached out and squeezed Dean's arm. "Don't worry son. We'll be safe soon enough. We got it covered."

"I know where you can go."

Both Winchesters glanced up as Mac came striding down the hallway, gaze fixed on them.

Dean and John got to their feet and immediately crowded the doctor, anxious for answers. Mac held out a placating hand. "Let's go into Sam's room. Walls have ears, especially in a hospital."

So all three shuffled their way quietly back into the room.

"Ok. I have an old friend that lives up in Montana. She was once one of my students, and she specialises in patients with...special needs." Mac raised an eyebrow. Seeing the shock on John and Dean's faces he gave a small laugh. "Yeah. I figured out what you are, kind of." He once again raised a hand. "I don't want any specifics, but she seemed to understand. She also feels she could help Sam."

Dean stared at him then turned on his father. "Dad, that's a hell of a journey. I'm not sure Sam's ready for it!"

Mac interrupted before John could answer. "I know it's a long way to go, but really, the further away from here you get the better. And I can prescribe pain killers and anti-inflammatories to help keep the pain at bay." He withdrew a folder from inside his white coat and handed it to John. "Her name is Nicole Le Monnier."

"She's French?" Dean asked curiously.

"Born in France, raised here. So she speaks English." Mac glanced at the frown on John's face as he scanned her file. "John?"

"Le Monnier, Le Monnier...where have I heard that name before?" John muttered mostly to himself. Then a light bulb went off in his mind and his eyes widened. "I knew her father, albeit briefly." Sensing his son's puzzlement he smiled at Dean. "No, her Dad wasn't a hunter but he did help fix me up when I was badly injured once. Henry was a great doctor. But I 'd no idea he had kids."

"Only child," Mac replied. "Her mother died giving birth to Nicole's baby brother, who was unfortunately stillborn. Henry followed some six months later."

Dean swallowed hard, wondering what his life would've been like if Sam had died before he'd been able to take his first breath. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. It was too much on the heels of everything else that had happened recently.

John felt sadness welling up. "Amy died?" He asked softly. At Mac's tentative nod, John glanced down at Nicole's photo. "She was a good woman." He added quietly. "Nicole looks just like her."

There was a small silence before Mac cleared his throat respectfully.

"Anyway, she knows you'll be on your way tonight. She's expecting you." Mac pulled out a small white paper bag which rattled softly, before handing it to Dean. "Sam's medication. Any idea how you're getting out of here?"

John tore his gaze away from Nicole's file. "Yeah. We're gonna need three gurneys from the morgue." He grinned at the sudden shocked look on Dean's face.

"Time to play dead son!"

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Three hours later, the Winchester's were ready to roll. Quite literally.

The Great Escape had begun, though Dean definitely wasn't the modern personification of Steve McQueen.

It had been explained carefully to Sam, who accepted the situation with only a few questions. But his older brother was a different matter.

Dean stared at the gurneys with poorly concealed disgust. "Oh hell no! You _gotta_ be kiddin' me!"

John, who had already removed his shoes and socks, grinned at Dean. "Come on kid. It won't be so bad and it won't be for long either."

Dean shook his head. "I don't care. There's _no freakin' way_ I'm gettin' on that. Dead people travel on those dude!"

Sam paused for a moment, reading his brother's lips. Then he started laughing. "Y...you're not _afraid_ are ya? I d...didn't think you w...were afraid of anything Dean." In truth, Sam found the whole cloak and dagger routine rather exciting. Like he didn't get enough excitement in his life as it was!

Dean glowered at him. "I never said I was afraid...aw hell!" He kicked off his boots and ripped off his socks, grumbling as he did so. He so did _not_ want to be out done by his baby brother.

John winked at Sam. His youngest always knew what buttons to press, which came as a relief right now. The last thing John wanted was to _order_ Dean to do this.

All three lay on their respective gurneys and Mac covered them from head to toe with the standard issue mortuary sheets. John and Mac could be heard stifling their laughter when Dean burst out "What the hell was that? Did you just tag my _toe?_ Sonofabitch!"

"Watch your mouth son!" John called out automatically, but without any real heat. He was still trying not to laugh.

"You guys ready?" Mac asked as he was about to open the door.

"Yup." Came John's voice.

"Yeah I s'pose so." Was Dean's sullen reply. "This ever gets out and my reputation is ruined. No girl's gonna wanna get on down with a _corpse!" _He carried on muttering and grumbling until his dad ordered him to shut the hell up.

Mac shook his head in amusement then gently tapped Sam on the shoulder through the sheet.

"I'm ready." Sam answered.

"Ok. Let's go." Mac motioned to the two mortuary technicians to come in and take away the 'bodies'.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Mac had kept up a steady vigilance throughout the journey down to the morgue, watching for any suspicious persons lurking where they had no right to be. He finally heaved a sigh of relief as they entered the lift, and made their way down to the very depths of the hospital.

Once he had the Winchesters safely ensconced in the lab, he declared that he would take it from there and the technicians left, thankful to be let off shift earlier than usual.

"Ok, we're here. Just stay quiet and I'll wheel you each individually out to the loading bay."

John kept silent, Sam couldn't hear anyway, but there seemed to be a weird noise coming from Dean's gurney. Mac sighed then pulled back the sheet.

"Hey! Cut it out!" Mac wasn't sure why he was whispering but it just felt the right thing to do in a morgue. He nudged Dean less than gently. "Corpses may make a lot of strange noises, but the one thing they _don't_ do is snore!"

"Sorry dude."

"As I said, I'm gonna wheel you out one at a time, and then get you loaded into whatever vehicle your friend Bobby's brought with him. It's unlikely anyone's down here watching, but just to be cautious stay _silent_ and _don't_ move." Mac moved over to Sam's gurney and after touching him briefly on the shoulder so not to startle him, he moved back the sheet and repeated the orders, mouthing carefully so he could understand. Sam nodded and smiled.

Mac reached out again and squeezed his shoulder, smiling back. His admiration for this family was sky high, but especially for young Sam. The kid had been through a lot and yet seemed to take it all in his stride. He covered Sam's face with the sheet once more.

_Mind you, _he thought to himself, _Dean's quite the entertainer; his antics probably helped keep him calm._

Chuckling softly to himself, he started pushing Sam's gurney first. Moving silently out and into the corridor, Mac made it to the loading bay without any drama until someone stepped out in front of him.

"Holy shit!" Mac nearly hit the roof.

"Not quite and certainly not holy." The stranger held out his hand. "I'm Bobby singer. I'm here to collect the bodies."

Mac took several deep breaths before shaking Bobby's hand. "Dr Mackenzie, Sam's doctor. Just call me Mac."

Bobby nodded and grinned a little in the dim light. "Ok Mac. Let's get this show on the road." And proceeded to wheel the youngest Winchester out to the waiting transport.

Mac followed and raised an eyebrow, suitably impressed. "Nice. That'll be great for Sam. He needs the comfort and rest."

Bobby glanced up. "Yeah, a friend of mine owed me a favour. Thought this was the best option."

It was a nondescript white RV, not too obvious or big, and in the darkness of the night could easily be mistaken for an ambulance. But inside it was the lap of luxury. A small kitchen dominated the left hand side, but a dining area opened out on the right, which doubled as a bedroom. There was a 32 inch plasma screen surrounded by shelving units, which Bobby had loaded up with all the boys' favourite films as well as some new ones. He'd also taken care to stock up the fridge and cupboards with food and other essentials. He figured the boys deserved a little comfort for once.

Bobby gently pulled back the sheet on Sam's gurney and just managed to hold in a gasp at the sight of the bruises. He blinked back what felt suspiciously like tears and smiled down at the kid.

"You ready Sam?" When Sam nodded Bobby slid one arm gently under Sam's back and the other under his pyjama-clad knees, then lifted him up, carrying him on board the RV. He already had the bed ready, the covers turned down. After laying the kid on the bed he ran a gentle hand through Sam's hair and covered him over with the duvet.

"Rest up Sam. I'll get your dad and brother on board and we can get the hell outta dodge."

Sam frowned for a second, watching his lips, then nodded and smiled sleepily. "'Kay Uncle Bobby." Before he closed his eyes he turned his head towards Mac. "Th...thanks for everything D...Dr Mac. Hope we get to s...see you again s...someday."

Mac smiled and ruffled his hair. "I'm sure you will young Sam."

Sam fell asleep almost instantly, and didn't feel his brother stroking his hair, or his Dad when he laid a gentle kiss on his head. And neither did he hear the goodbyes or the engine purring to life.

Bobby drove quietly out of the hospital's rear gates, and out into the night.

Mac stared after them until the tail lights disappeared.

_Stay safe guys._

Then he turned back, intent on setting off the fire alarm and calling the bomb squad. The perfect diversion should anyone be watching.

The RV passed over the state line just after midnight, and those that were still awake heaved a sigh of relief when no one appeared to be following them.

They were never to lay eyes on Dr 'Mac' Mackenzie ever again.

But they would always remember his kindness.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Well, they're well and truly on their way, they know where they're headed and who to trust.

For now!

And no, don't worry, I haven't killed off Mac and have no plans to. Our boys constantly meet new people all the time, but rarely do they run into them again.

Hope you enjoyed the mix of angst and humour, but as always...

..._**you gotta let me know...**_

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	9. Chapter 9

**In The Arms of Love Chapter 9**

_**Sam fell asleep almost instantly, and didn't feel his brother stroking his hair, or his Dad when he laid a gentle kiss on his head. And neither did he hear the goodbyes or the engine purring to life.**_

_**Bobby drove quietly out of the hospital's rear gates, and out into the night.**_

_**Mac stared after them until the tail lights disappeared.**_

_**Stay safe guys.**_

_**The RV passed over the state line just after midnight, and those that were still awake heaved a sigh of relief when no one appeared to be following them.**_

_**They were never to lay eyes on Dr 'Mac' Mackenzie ever again.**_

_**But they would always remember his kindness.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam had only woken up once during the first stage of the journey, and that was because the pain killers had worn off. He'd kept as silent as he could until the all-over pain became unbearable, but he must have whimpered because Dean turned to him, a concerned frown marring his features.

"What's wrong buddy? You need more meds?" He mouthed.

Sam nodded, too tired to speak. Dean was already shaking two small pills out of one of the prescription bottles, and helped Sam sit up in bed.

As Sam slowly sipped the water, washing down the medication, Dean studied him for a second, one arm crossed up under Sam's back, hand supporting his head. When his brother had finished, Dean gently grasped Sam's shoulders, then cupped the side of his face forcing his little brother to look at him.

"Sam, don't ever do that again, ok?"

Sam tilted his head to one side, frowning a little. "What?"

"You were holding out on me! If you're in pain then own up, all right?" Dean leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Sam's, eyes closed in frustration. They stayed like that for a few seconds before Dean leaned back and searched Sam's gaze. "Promise me?"

"I...I'm sorry. I j..just didn't w..wanna get in the way!" Sam whispered in response, the tone of his voice perfectly matched his sad eyes. "I...I've caused enough pr...problems..."

His voice couldn't have been as soft as he'd hoped because suddenly there were two Winchesters glaring down at him.

John's eyes flashed angrily. "That's enough! You didn't do this Sam; this is NOT your fault. I don't wanna hear you say that again. You are NOT in the way and you are NOT a burden." He glared down at his youngest son, still speaking slowly. "You're a major pain in my ass with all your constant questions and smart ass logic, but you're a good kid, a fine hunter, and you're the last person in the world this should've happened to." John took a deep breath after that rather long speech, before adding "And if I could, I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat."

Sam blinked up at him, and Dean wondered if Sam had understood. Neither boy had ever heard their father talk like that, so maybe John had spoken too quickly for him to keep up...but Sam's eyes suddenly appeared suspiciously moist.

John smiled when Sam nodded. "Glad we understand each other kiddo." John helped Sam lay back down, and pulled the covers up. "Now, I'm gonna make you both some hot cocoa then you will _both _get some sleep; Dean'll wake you for breakfast...speaking of which, I believe you owe Dean an apology and a promise?"

Sam nodded then turned his sad puppy dog eyes on his big brother. "I'm s...sorry Dean and I pr...promise I'll t...tell you when I'm in p...pain next time."

Dean grinned and ruffled Sam's hair. "You better kiddo." He added softly as John settled two steaming mugs down on the night stand, "now do as Dad says and drink your cocoa."

The hot drink quickly relaxed him and Sam lay back down, closing his eyes. But just as Dean was about to turn back to the plasma screen, where he had Rocky III on DVD paused in a pretty cool mid-punch, he felt a small hand on his arm.

"Dean?" His little brother was blinking up at him, his face pleading anxiously for reassurance.

"What is it Sammy?"

"D...do you th...think Marco will find us?"

Dean sighed. He'd known something was bugging Sam other than his injuries, but he really should have figured that the prospect of running into that fat bastard again would be the real issue here. Unsurprisingly, his little brother was still scared and deeply troubled by the events of the last few days.

Dean looked Sam straight in the eye as he put on his celebrated Big Brother Knows Best act. "No Sammy I don't. And even if he does he aint gettin' passed Dad and me, not to mention Uncle Bobby. You're safe with us Sam." He smiled when Sam appeared to relax a little. "_Now_ will ya get some sleep?"

"Yeah. Th...thanks Dean." When Sam seemed to struggle to find a comfortable position, Dean shook his head, amused. Sam was now in fidget mode which meant it could be hours before the kid was able to get any decent uninterrupted sleep. So Dean swallowed his pride, turned off his ego 

- which was currently switched to loud speaker, screaming at him _'if you do what I think you're about to do then you truly are a girl!'_ 

– pulled back the covers and settled in beside his little brother. Gently pressing Sam's back to his chest, he wrapped his arms securely round Sam's waist and, Rocky III forgotten, closed his eyes.

Mere seconds later and Dean could feel Sam relax into a deep sleep, followed by a light snoring. Dean grinned. It was a tried and tested technique to calm a fretting baby Sammy, but he found it kinda funny that it could still work on a teenage Sam. Pretty soon, with his little brother's soft brown curls tickling his nose as he rested his chin over Sam's scalp, Dean was asleep.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"You want some more coffee?" Bobby nodded, checking the side mirrors. John was sitting in the seat just behind the drivers', well out of view of the windows, trying to keep Bobby awake by making conversation. Both Dean and John had offered to take over some of the driving, but Bobby felt uneasy letting either Winchester into the front seats. It would expose them too much; all it could take was one glance from one of Marco's men and it was game over. Though they'd travelled far in the last few hours since their 'escape' from the hospital, Bobby probably wouldn't truly relax until he had several States between Marco's HQ and the Winchesters.

He took a sip from the plastic mug and raised an eyebrow. _Not bad stuff!_ "How the boys doin'?"

John leaned forward as far as he dared without falling from the seat, and peered into the back of the darkened RV. When he saw his oldest son curled protectively round his youngest he had to smile. It was like watching two puppies, exhausted from their play, sharing each other's warmth and comfort.

"Both sleeping. At last." John couldn't remember the last time Dean had gotten any sleep, and it was starting to worry him. His oldest son was a human dynamo, always active, on the move and raring to go; much like a young wolf keen for the hunt. But the last few days of worry over Sam were taking its toll, and Dean was looking tired and ill. He was sure Sam had noticed because of the discreet glances thrown his big brother's way whenever he thought no one was looking. John knew that was why Sam hadn't admitted to being in so much pain; he didn't want Dean pushing himself too hard. But now they were both resting comfortably and that was in part down to the pull of exhaustion, but also the harmless herbal sleeping draft John had slipped into both boy's hot cocoa. It would give them a good night's sleep but without the grogginess and nausea that often accompanied over-the-counter sleeping pills. John was also pretty certain that having Sam so near and under his protection was contributing to Dean's sleep, since his shoulders seemed more relaxed than ever before. It was an easy bet that a long time would pass before Dean could let Sam out of his sight again. And although Dean seemed to have conveniently forgotten that Sam wasn't the only 

one in danger, John hadn't. If worse came to worse, John would find somewhere to keep his boys safe, somewhere off the radar where they couldn't be found, whilst he went up against Marco by himself.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby and John chatted quietly as the RV ate away at the miles. Dawn had already arrived, but seeing his sons sleeping so peacefully, having not moved at all during the drive, he decided not to disturb them. They would bypass breakfast for now and go straight to lunch, where no doubt Dean would relish a juicy burger with extra onions, whilst his little brother watched with disgust.

John smiled to himself again. His sons were so different in personality but that seemed to strengthen the bond between them rather than eclipse it. He wondered about that, if the boys would always be this close or would the years slowly drive them apart. No matter what, somehow John had the feeling that Dean would always be there for his little brother when he was needed.

His thoughts were interrupted when Dean yawned, stretched, then with a loud thud promptly fell off the bed. It was accompanied by some muffled cursing, and the sound of Sam giggling and accusing his brother of being a dork.

"Dork? I'll show you who's the dork round here squirt!" The giggling grew louder as Dean launched himself at Sam and proceeded to tickle his feet. It was the only part of Sam's body that _wasn't _bruised.

The playful puppy analogy sprang back into John's mind and he caught Bobby's grin in the review mirror.

"All right you two, cut it out! We're gonna be stopping for lunch in a few hours so I suggest you get your butts outta bed and into the shower!"

"Yes Sir!" Called back Dean.

There was some low muttering before Sam repeated "Yes Sir!"

"And don't use all the hot water!"

"No Sir!"

Another pause and younger voice said "No Sir!"

A few more laughs and giggles as Dean tormented his little brother's feet a while longer, then came the slam of the RV's shower unit. Sam had presumably used the prospect of a hot shower as a means of escape, because Dean reached for the remote and switched on the plasma screen. The sounds of the news channel soon filled the cab and John got up to join his son on the pull-out sofa.

_**The police and bomb squad received an anonymous call last night that an explosive device had been placed at the nearby hospital...**_

John raised his eyebrows and Dean turned up the volume.

_**...after the entire hospital was evacuated it was happily discovered to be a false alarm, though there had been reports of unknown individuals lurking suspiciously round the premises earlier in the day. Dr Mackenzie stated in a private press conference that the incident was regrettable, and he sends his sincere apologies to any patients or visitors to the medical facility for any unnecessary inconvenience caused...**_

Dean grinned and turned to his Dad. "Mac sure is a cool guy. I can't believe he really did that!"

John chuckled. "He had his reservations about it, but figured that hey!...It was in a good cause and it might be fun!"

The door to the shower cubicle opened and Sam stood drying his hair on a towel, another one wrapped round his waist. John and Dean tried hard not to stare.

Sam was still developing and his already toned physique showed a lot of promise. But it was the bruising on his chest and abdomen that reignited anger in the hearts of his brother and father. John stood abruptly, unwilling for his youngest son to see his reaction but unable to stop it. Neither John nor Dean had really seen the full extent of the beating Sam had suffered to his body, so this came as a huge shock. No wonder the poor kid was in so much pain!

Purples, blues, yellows, greens...there was barely a patch of skin that could be considered a normal colour.

Feeling a little self-conscious under those angry stares, and in addition more than a little frightened, Sam hastily pulled on a T-shirt, wincing at the harsh movement. He also had to fight the urge to shrink back into the shower cubicle.

John forced a smile he really didn't feel and headed towards to the kitchen area. "I'm gonna make some coffee!" He called out with false cheer. "Who's with me?"

"I'm in" Called Bobby.

"Me too," _obviously _that was Dean.

John glanced over at his youngest with a soft smile. "Sammy? You want some kiddo?"

Sam looked a bit unsure, clearly confused. But seeing his Dad's smile and watching his lips, he offered a tentative smile of his own and nodded. "Th...thanks Dad."

John's smile widened _another awkward moment avoided_. The last thing he wanted to do was make his already badly hurt and frightened son feel even worse. "Sure thing son. Now sit down and watch some cartoons." He jerked his chin towards the plasma screen. "Scooby Doo's on the kid's channel." He waggled his eyebrows a little. He'd known about Sam's secret love of that stupid cartoon dog for a while now, and had kept it to himself partly out of respect but mainly because it was one of his favourites too.

Sam gasped a little when he finally understood. His face flushed with embarrassment at first; he thought only Dean knew, but soon gave in and smiled back. He ducked his head in a shy nod and sat down by his brother.

John couldn't help but overhear the following conversation between his sons, and he took a little longer than strictly necessary over the coffee preparations. It was to both break his heart and make him laugh all at the same time.

Sam didn't know quite how to put it, so he just came out with it.

"Uh Dean? C...could y...y...you..." At least he _tried_ to come out with it, but it was so embarrassing that he could swear his stuttering got worse. Good job he couldn't hear it.

Dean turned to face him as per usual and tilted his head. "What is it Sammy?"

"Um...m...my jeans..."

Dean immediately understood and his heart clenched. Sam was asking for help in getting dressed because his poor body was in too much pain to even put on a pair of jeans.

"Aw sure I will squirt. Here, just put your feet out and let me do the rest." Dean grinned a little, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. "I promise I won't tickle you again!"

Sam grinned back briefly, but it soon faded. "Dean? The br...bruises...they'll go. Right?"

Dean, on his knees by Sam's feet, was tugging the denim up his brother's legs, when he stopped and stared up. "Hey of course they will." He finished the job, letting Sam keep his dignity by allowing him to button up his own jeans, then grabbed both Sam's wrists in his, gently as possible given the bandages covering the wounds from the handcuffs. _Was there no place that bastard didn't hurt Sam? _"That's just your body's way of healing. They'll fade, I promise."

"Yeah, I know b...but...when I c...came out the sh...shower..."

"Aw kiddo! You didn't think...you did?" _Shit! Sam thinks we're angry with him!_ "Sammy the only reason we were angry is 'cos we didn't know how badly you were hurt 'til now. Only Mac had seen the damaged to your torso. We weren't angry with _you_ little bro, only with the _fuckers_ that did this to you!"

When Sam stared at him with large tears forming in the corners of those big soulful eyes, Dean reached out "Aw Sammy come 'ere!" And Sam found himself gently folded into his brother's arms. He clung on without a word as Dean rubbed soothing circles on his back. After a few minutes both drew back a little embarrassed at what Dean had recently come to call a 'chick-flick' moment.

Dean cleared his throat, and rolled his shoulders in what he hoped was a manly way. Forgetting that his little brother couldn't hear anyhow, he offered "So..." His voice deep and macho, face fixed with a masculine frown. "You wanna watch Scooby Doo?"

Sam, though he couldn't hear, could certainly guess and bit back a grin.

John, on the other hand wasn't so discreet, and Dean scowled when he heard his father sniggering from the front of the RV.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Taking care to make sure the subtitles option was selected, Dean settled back, but discreetly watched his brother's face.

Occasionally sadness flitted across his young features as he struggled to keep an eye on the dialogue and the hilarious antics of his favourite on-screen dog, but he was soon getting the hang of it and by the time the coffee arrived he was full on laughing out loud. It touched Dean more than he could say when their father not only joined them but wedged himself on the sofa bed behind his boys and gently pulled them close to his chest, an arm round each son.

Dean couldn't remember the last time John behaved like this, but wasn't going to question it. Instead he revelled in the fatherly affection, knowing that he would likely never have this again.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Bobby felt it was long passed due to take a break from the road. He needed a shower and a long sleep, so he pulled into the nearest rest stop. This place was a proper multi-storey hotel with a bar, restaurant and even a small shopping mall. It was a little expensive but Bobby had his resources and soon secured two rooms.

"Ok. We have proper beds, with en suites and hot running water, room safes to hold any weapons you just can't _bear _leave in the RV, and a fully functional mini-bar which certain people will _not _be investigating." Bobby had leapt back onto the RV, firing out orders. He finished on a grin. "Isn't that right? _Dean!"_

Sam, on reading that then seeing the indignant expression on Dean's face, smothered a laugh.

"Hey! What're you implyin'?"

"I aint implyin' nothin' kid." Bobby folded his arms and John grinned broadly. "But I _am_ rememberin' a certain New Year's Eve not so long ago when a bottle o'Jack mysteriously disappeared from my drinks cabinet. You were found out cold in the mornin' on the porch swing, and when I woke you up you said 'that was fantastic Wendy, any good for you darlin'?' And _then_ you tried to stick ya tongue down my throat. Gave me nightmares for damn weeks!" He raised an eyebrow. "Ring any bells in that thick skull o' yours?"

Dean appeared to consider that. "Yeeaahh, that does kinda sound like me, but that was just ONE TIME..." he trailed off as he nervously glanced at his father.

John smirked. "One time Dean? Really? Ok, how's this..."

"All right I get it!" Dean waved his arms and stomped off to pack his duffle bag. He glared at his little brother when he exploded with laughter. "Enough squirt or the feet get it!" He grinned a little when Sam immediately scrambled out of reach.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

John had been quite right in his prediction of lunch. Dean ordered a huge burger with onions, but as an addition he insisted on a fried egg and mushrooms.

Sam looked like he was about to be sick when Dean took his first bite, the yolk running down his chin along with ketchup and mustard. Ever the generous brother, Dean had glanced at Sam and grunted a "you wanna try? It's delicious!" earning him a grimace of distaste.

John really hadn't raised his sons to have such appalling table manners, as was evident by Sam's almost gentlemanly behaviour when his food was placed in front of him. Dean only did it to get a rise out of Sammy, and it more than often worked.

Sam was only grateful he'd shied away from the Spaghetti Bolognese, because he was pretty certain that would have finished him off. Fortunately he'd stuck with a light chicken salad, his appetite not being up to form in any case, but secretly his stomach was still hurting him and he didn't want to push his luck.

But pretty soon the cramps became unbearable and he grabbed the table cloth trying to hold in a wince. Dean was half way through a long drawn out joke when he noticed his little brother suddenly turn pale.

"Sam? You ok?" Dean was already on his feet.

"Uh...I..." Sam bit his lip and leaned forward clutching his stomach, not wanting to embarrass his family in public.

John whipped his napkin off his lap, cupped a hand to his son's jaw and lifted it gently. Seeing the pain etched on Sam's face, John nodded at Dean and Bobby. "Go speak to the hotel manager, see if there's a doctor on site. If not then it's off to hospital Sammyboy! I thought we already had this conversation!"

As soon as Sam read his father he started shaking his head. "No...D...Dad. It's just a stomach ache. I'll be fine." He smiled weakly. "R...really, I haven't eaten a pr...proper meal since we left. Please D...Dad. I just wanna lie d...down for a while."

John noticed his colour was already returning and nodded slowly, though he was less than happy with the situation. But the truth was that none of them had bothered with food, and John silently cursed himself for that. In the adrenaline rush and excitement of the night time escape it hadn't been an issue, not even for Dean. Which was a damn miracle in itself.

"Ok Sam. Can you finish your meal? Just a little more?"

Sam shook his head miserably. "I..I'm not really h...hungry." His voice was even softer as he spoke. "I g...gotta go to the bathroom."

"Ok kiddo. Let's go..." John began, but Dean interrupted him.

"I'll take him Dad. You and Bobby haven't even finished your own lunch yet." Dean was already helping Sam out of his seat, and his little brother was trying unsuccessfully to move normally to the restroom.

John frowned when Sam was out of sight. "You sure?" His oldest son had already scoffed down his meal with obscene speed, yet John and Bobby's remained virtually untouched.

"Yeah Dad. Once he's asleep I'll come back down and meet you at the mall." He gave a sad smile. "I wanna get him some fresh clothes to replace the ones that...well..." He didn't need to say it.

_To replace the clothes Sam had been buried alive in._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

He watched as the older one helped the younger boy across the hotel foyer, plainly visible through the massive glass windows.

He heaved a sigh of relief. Stumbling upon them by sheer luck would go a long way to gaining back some brownie points after his major fuck up at the hospital.

With a predatory smile he pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial.

"Yeah boss I found 'em."

"_Great job. Now finish it, or I'll have your balls on a plate."_

"I'm on it boss. Just calm down..."

"_Don't you tell me to fucking calm down, if you hadn't lost the bastards in the first place..."_

"It's ok boss." His grinned widened. "They're sittin' fuckin' ducks!"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean had left his brother in the hotel room, with Sam's promise to dead-bolt the door behind him as he left. Sam had virtually pushed him out in fact, demanding that he go have some fun, maybe visit the games room on the lower floor.

No _way_ was Dean doing that. He felt uneasy enough as it was leaving Sam on his own and he planned on getting back there ASAP. He could see Dad and Bobby talking quietly as they searched for a new warm jacket and boots for Sam, all the better for coping with the cold climate in the Montana mountains this time of year.

But Dean had spotted the Scooby Doo T-shirt and grinned knowing how much his little brother would love it, grabbed a pair of jeans in Sam's size, and was now waiting patiently in the queue for the cash register.

Patiently, that was, until the building was rocked by an enormous explosion.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

I got the idea for the sleeping puppies literally from _seeing_ some sleeping puppies believe or not. I was in Victoria Park, St Helier, on Liberation day when I saw a family of Rhodesian Ridgebacks sprawled on the grass, snoozing in the afternoon sun. Two were young puppies, cuddled up to each other, one with his muzzle resting on the others neck, snuffling lightly every time his brother stirred in his sleep. The sight not only made me go all silly and giggly (which is totally undignified behaviour for a woman hurtling towards her mid-thirties), but it put me in mind of a young Sam and Dean; perhaps Dean comforting Sam after a nightmare.

So, really, it's not just Sam who's a puppy, but his older brother too!

But there ya go. I'm a real softy for dogs I'm afraid!

And as for the ending...nah. Not gonna apologise. It'll all be worth it I promise you!

Thanks for your amazing support so far. Much appreciated I assure you!

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	10. Chapter 10

**In The Arms of Love Chapter 10**

_**He watched as the older one helped the younger boy across the hotel foyer, plainly visible through the massive glass windows.**_

_**He heaved a sigh of relief. Stumbling upon them by sheer luck would go a long way to gaining back some brownie points after his major fuck up at the hospital.**_

_**With a predatory smile he pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial.**_

"_**Yeah boss I found 'em."**_

"_**Great job. Now finish it, or I'll have your balls on a plate."**_

"_**I'm on it boss. Just calm down..."**_

"_**Don't you tell me to fucking calm down, if you hadn't lost the bastards in the first place..."**_

"_**It's ok boss." His grinned widened. "They're sittin' fuckin' ducks!"**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Dean had left his brother in the hotel room, with Sam's promise to dead-bolt the door behind him as he left. Sam had virtually pushed him out in fact, demanding that he go have some fun, maybe visit the games room on the lower floor.**_

__

__

_**No way was Dean doing that. He felt uneasy enough as it was leaving Sam on his own and he planned on getting back there ASAP. He could see Dad and Bobby talking quietly as they searched for a new warm jacket and boots for Sam, all the better for coping with the cold climate in the Montana mountains this time of year.**_

_**But Dean had spotted the Scooby Doo T-shirt and grinned knowing how much his little brother would love it, grabbed a pair of jeans in Sam's size, and was now waiting patiently in the queue for the cash register.**_

_**Patiently, that was, until the building was rocked by an enormous explosion.**_

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

As fire alarms wailed out, people started screaming and running. Smoke and dust filled the hallways, darkening and curling under doors and into lift shafts, adding to the already building panic.

John grabbed Dean with Bobby just behind and raced for the nearest exit, just as another explosion took out a display window shattering the glass and sending wicked looking shards in all directions. Dean cried out and stumbled when one bit deeply into his left arm; John held him up, and with Bobby on the other side, half-carried, half-dragged his oldest son to safety.

As they spilled out into the parking lot they realised the full extent of the damage. Half the building was gone, completely wiped out. The explosion had caused the entire East wing of the hotel to crumble and collapse and people were already picking through the devastation, in spite of the danger, desperately searching for their loved ones. Flames had already caught hold of the next building, spreading rapidly, hungrily devouring anything that stood in its way.

_The next building where Dean had left his little brother!_

"Oh god!" Dean was trembling in his father's arms, and John realised he was going into shock.

"Come on. Bobby get 'im to the RV." He eyed the nasty cut on Dean's arm. "And get that cleaned up. I'm gonna head on back; see if I can't find Sam."

But Dean pulled away, shaking his head. "No. Sam…"

John had to fight back tears as he stalked him. "I'm sure he got out in time, what with the alarms…" But he knew it was bullshit and was pretty sure Dean could see it in his eyes.

"NO! Sam wouldn't have been able to hear those!"

Before they could stop him, Dean took off running back towards the ruined hotel.

"Dean! Get your ass back here right now!" John yelled out, and started after him, determined that he wasn't going to lose both his sons in one day. He vaguely heard Bobby mutter something along the lines of "Damn fool kid!" as he kept pace.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam felt a jolt and sat up, staring round him in puzzlement. He'd fallen asleep on the bed without bothering to climb beneath the covers. Something wasn't right.

Sure the room looked no different but _something…._

There it was again. He scrambled off the bed and glanced out the window, gasping when he saw the building next to his collapse silently into a pile of rubble.

Sam backed away from the window, a sixth sense telling him to move, and move _fast._

He yanked open the bedroom door and virtually fell out into the hall, bumping into other people who were scrambling for the lifts.

"No!" Sam yelled at them, but they paid him no heed. "N…not the l…lifts!" It was too late. The doors closed, but Sam could sense them screaming in fear as the lift faltered and ground to a halt, the warning lights flashing on the outside of the lift shaft; a result of too many people jammed inside.

It was a hard decision. He really didn't want to leave them but there was nothing he could do. He needed to get down to ground level and get help if any of these people were going to survive.

Sam was scared out of his mind as he raced for the stairwell, smoke threatening to choke him. The building shook again.

_What the hell is happening?_

Pounding down the stairs he met several people who had the same idea, and like a flock of migratory birds, the crowd grew as they surged forward. But on reaching the exit at the bottom they found the way out was blocked by rubble, but also fire.

Sam stared through the glass door as the flames rose higher. He couldn't hear but he could see the panic, see mouths open in silent screams and yells for help.

This was the only way out.

He turned round studying the walls of their temporary prison. On one wall was a fire hose.

Ok that's a good start. Even better, sitting next to it was a small hammer which could be used to set off the fire alarm. Pushing through the crowd, which was thinning out as people 

took off back up the stairs looking for another exit, he grabbed the hammer and pushed his way up the stairwell.

Tumbling out into a first floor hallway, Sam selected a bedroom which was furthest away from the fire, and used the hammer to smash his way through the door. It was tough going especially considering his injuries but he made it, and the minute he was inside he raced over to one of the windows. Predictably it was locked. This was a particularly stupid ploy, in Sam's point of view, by hotels to stop people from smoking out of their windows. Locking any potential escape route was a dangerous practice; and Sam hoped the hammer would be enough to break it.

He shrugged; it got him through the door right?

So he attacked the glass, and to his delight it smashed first time, and he cleared the rest of the debris sweeping it aside. Smiling grimly, he raced over to the bed and grabbed up pillows, cushions, blankets, anything soft he could get his hands on until the bed was stripped bare.

Then he hauled the mattress over to the window and with some difficulty managed to throw it out, followed by the pillows and everything else. As an extra precaution he raided the cupboards and closet, found some more bed linen and out they went too.

That done he ran back to the stairwell and yelled as loud as he could.

"Up here! Qu…quickly!" Several people turned and stared up at him, and he beckoned them with his hands, waving at them desperately. "C…come on!"

When a few of them, some holding children, nodded to each other and started heading his way, Sam smiled to himself. Backing up the stairs to make sure they were still following 

him, he nodded to them, trying to reassure and keep them calm, even though calm was the last thing he was feeling.

He led them into the bedroom and indicated the broken window.

"It's only the f..first f...floor," Sam tried to explain when they all looked at him in horror. He couldn't hear their protests, but on reading their lips he understood their concerns.

"C..climb out onto the ledge, hang and d…drop, d…don't jump." He hoped to god this was coming out right, but he had no way of knowing until someone tried it. "Aim f…for the b…blankets. When you l…land r…remember to b…bend your knees and r…roll."

He stared at them beseechingly when they just stood there at a loss. Sam glanced at the door, startled to see smoke already billowing out into the hall. "P..please! It's your only ch…chance!" He pointed towards the hall, and his audience gasped; it spurred them into action and they immediately set to work. They split into smaller groups and Sam handed over the small hammer to someone before they moved off into another bedroom.

That done, Sam slammed the bedroom door shut, raced into the bathroom to run a large towel under the cold shower, not caring that he was getting soaked. Back in the bedroom, he rolled up the towel and shoved it up against the bottom of the door, hoping that it would buy them all sometime from the smoke, which now filled the hallway.

Sam found himself caught between keeping an eye out for the smoke and watching the small group of people he'd taken responsibility for. It never occurred to anyone present that he should have been the one taken care of, that Sam was only fourteen years old and had family that was desperately searching for him.

But Sam was tall for his age and took to leadership, _responsibility, _like a duck to water, and these people were terrified adults, looking to him to get them out of trouble.

It was taking too long, mainly because even though it was the first floor, it was still a scary height to drop from; such was the design of the hotel. Sam insisted on being the last person out, which meant that by the time it was his turn, the smoke was billowing into the room through the gaps, and Sam could feel the heat from where he stood at the window. Coughing and spluttering, he waited anxiously for the ground to clear, but it seemed to be taking some time. From what he could see through the smoke, it looked as though the last person had landed wrong and, judging by the awkward angle their leg was twisted at, had suffered a broken limb. Fire crews and EMTs, seeing Sam's predicament, raced over and began to hastily but gently remove the injured party.

Sam was badly affected by the smoke by now, his eyes stinging, lungs burning; he didn't realise that they were ready for him until it was almost too late. Clambering out on to the ledge, he nearly passed out from the relief of _almost_ fresh air.

Vision greying out, he sat, let his legs swing out over the edge, turned and lowered his body until he was hanging by his fingertips. He had to stop when he started coughing again, clinging onto the ledge with an iron-like grip.

He didn't realise that he was being watched by his very worried big brother, and he certainly didn't hear him shout his name.

Another bout of harsh coughing had him losing his grip on the ledge, and he was falling.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

__

Dean, one hand clutched over his injured arm, raced through the growing crowds, just evading being caught by a security guard.

"Son, you can't go back there! It's too dangerous!"

But Dean ignored him, ignored the pounding feet behind him that signalled his father and Bobby were also on the move.

He didn't stop as he made for the entrance but quickly found it blocked off, and he could feel the heat of the flames as they grew with frightening ease. Movement towards the back of the foyer caught his attention and he could just make out a crowd of people trapped behind a set of double glass doors. There was someone standing right at the front and he immediately recognised who it was by the unruly mop of brown hair.

"Sam!" Dean started jumping up and down waving his arms; he couldn't see Sam's face properly through the smoke and fire, but terror shot through him when his little brother disappeared from view.

_Where the hell's he gone?_ Dean tried to think. In time of crisis, Sam would default to his training.

That's it! Just as John and Bobby caught up to him, Dean took off again, racing round the side of the building. He started clambering over the ruined remains of the East wing, heading for the back bedrooms. Sam would go to the first floor, Dean was sure of it.

It took precious minutes for Dean to find his way, but the sound of breaking glass may him look up and along to the far end of the building.

He watched as a mattress was forced out of the window, followed by blankets and pillows. A pause, and then more bedding joined the rest on the ground.

Dean, smiling to himself, headed on over and began straightening the mattress and properly lining it up with the first floor window, piling the pillows and blankets up to create as soft a surface as possible. Then he stood back and waited.

And waited.

He started frowning, then he heard another window smash and more bedding was dumped out.

John reached Dean and forced him back, whilst Bobby straightened out the second 'crash mat'.

Then the mass exodus began. People started climbing out on the ledges, one at a time, some times with their children clinging to them, lowered themselves down and dropped.

Fire crews had arrived and began readjusting the 'crash mat' after each jump. Dean watched anxiously for any sign of his brother, whilst Bobby and John helped retrieve each person as and when they dropped. All seemed to go smoothly, except when one of the women landed badly and Dean heard the loud crack as bone snapped. He winced in sympathy then glanced up at the window. Sam was watching, smoke curling round him, as he choked and gasped, waiting for the poor lady to be moved.

Dean yelled. "Hurry!" He pointed up at his brother, and the EMTs sped up their movements.

"Hey kid! Can you get to the other window?" One of the fire crew shouted up at Sam.

"He can't hear you!" Dean yelled frantically. "And he can only lip-read when he's up close!" The fire officer nodded his thanks to him, then set about assisting in the quick emoval of the injured woman. It was the best they could do in the time they had left.

Dean watched as Sam climbed out, his heart in his mouth, and his adrenaline spiking every time he heard his little brother's hacking coughs as the smoke attacked him.

Pretty soon Sam was ready to drop, but a gust of smoke caught him and his body was assaulted by a particularly violent round of coughing.

Dean could see what was about to happen and there was absolutely nothing he could do. Sam lost his grip and plummeted, but his training took over; he bent his knees as he landed on the mattress, rolled and lay on his side still coughing harshly.

Dean spotted a spare fire fighter's breathing apparatus nearby, complete with full face mask, and ignoring his father, Bobby and the shouts of the fire crew, grabbed it up and headed towards Sam at high speed.

Sam's face was filthy from the smoke, eyes streaming, and he was coughing so hard that Dean was worried he'd do himself harm. It certainly couldn't be helping the bruises on his body.

Sam was soon tucked into his brother's arms, wheezing as Dean fixed the full mask over his brother's face. Sam struggled weakly in his grip, but Dean tightened his embrace holding him still. Even though it was muffled, the choking and gasping still made Dean wince, and when Sam reached up in a blind panic to remove the mask, Dean stopped him, pinning Sam's arms against his body.

"Easy! Easy kiddo!" Sam couldn't hear him, but Dean hoped that once his vision cleared he'd be able to see him through the face mask, and understand that he was safe. Dean resisted all attempts by the EMTs to take his brother away, instead holding him closer, stroking his hair, calming him.

John and Bobby pushed through the crowds, explained who they were and headed over to the boys.

Sam's breathing was still ragged but at least the coughing had died down a little, with the occasional splutter. John was relieved that his eyes were open, focused if bloodshot and sore looking, blinking up at his big brother.

"Y'alright Sammy?" He heard Dean whisper. Sam frowned a little then nodded slightly mouthing a 'yes' through the mask. "You're not hurt? Nothing's broken?"

Sam mouthed 'no, I'm ok.' Dean nodded then added "You sure?"

Sam appeared to roll his eyes 'yes!' Suddenly he went rigid in Dean's arms, eyes wide, and started struggling again.

"_The people in the lift!"_ They could just about hear his voice and could tell he was panicking. It started him off coughing again, as he tried to call out. _"They're trapped. You…you…"_ more gasping _"have to h…help them…"_

John turned to the fire crew. "My son says there's some people trapped in a lift..."

He turned back to Sam "Whereabouts Sam? Which floor?"

"_B…between…s…second and th…third floors. F…foyer" _Came the faint, breathless reply.

The remaining fire crew not holding a hoses or guiding people from the building, immediately set out towards the devastated foyer, though what the chances were of finding anyone still alive in that lift John had no idea, but he had no intention of saying that in front of Sam right now.

"Hey Sammy? Stay awake for me ok?" John turned back when he heard Dean's softly spoken command to see Sam's eyelids drooping. The poor kid looked exhausted.

He hated himself right now. In fact John had never felt so low in his life with what he was about to do. "Dean, get him to the RV."

Dean's head shot up. "What?! Sam needs to be in a hospital!"

Even Bobby gave a soft grunt of surprise. "He's right John."

John nodded. He fully understood their worries but they had yet to understand his.

"I know. But you think all this…" he held out a hand, gesturing at the devastation "…is just a coincidence?"

Dean glanced down at Sam, who eyes were now rolling sleepily, eyelids fluttering as he fought to stay awake. He could feel his brother's body still heaving with the effort of pulling in the badly needed oxygen. "Dad, supposing Sam's lungs have been damaged." He offered quietly.

"We'll keep an eye on him and if he gets sick then we go straight to a doctor," insisted John. "If this is Marco's doing then it means he's caught up with us, and we can't afford to hang around any longer. If we don't get Sam to safety then it's over, hospital or not."

Dean nodded. He wasn't happy but he could see his father's point.

Glancing round at the ruined hotel he felt sick; was Marco really capable of going this far?

His subconscious sure had a few things to say about that!:

_He buried an innocent kid alive! What do you think?_

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The explosion was all over the news; he'd really excelled himself. Surely he'd taken out at least one of the Winchester's by now? But when he watched a news report he realised his mistake. The explosion had done a good job, but he'd got the wrong hotel block. The East wing.

And judging by the film footage of Sam Winchester dropping out of a first floor window, the targets had been staying in the South wing. And the damn kid was now considered a hero!

When his cell phone rang, he knew who it was.

"Hey boss!"

"_Hey nice work! Nothing like a good bomb fire!"_

"Thanks boss." He sighed with relief. Maybe Marco hadn't seen…

"_It's just a damn fucking shame you got the wrong building!"_

Ok. So he _had_ seen it.

"Uh, boss…"

"_I don't wanna hear any more excuses. I'm coming out there myself."_ The call was disconnected.

He grimaced as he folded his cell phone shut and placed it back in his pocket. Whilst his thoughts were bent on how he was going to talk his way out of this one, he didn't notice an RV pulling out of the parking lot behind him.

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_**Author's notes:**_

Ah! Our Sam, the young hero of the hour. Bless 'im!

Sam's actions in trying to save those people are very loosely based on some basic fire training from when I was in the air cadets, therefore it's probably out of date and grossly inaccurate. So if you find yourself in a similar situation to Sam, then you're probably best off just panicking rather than listening to me!

As for Dean, nasty cut on his arm, not to mention possible opportunity for one big guilt trip – he nearly lost his brother in another fire and you know our Dean and his penchant for taking the blame for everything…

Then there's poor John, who's had to make some pretty tough decisions so far. But I like to think he's mostly made the right ones.

Bobby continues to saunter along in the background, offering support to all three.

Let me know what you think m'darlin's!

And many thanks again for all your reviews of the previous chapter.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	11. Chapter 11

**In The Arms Of Love Chapter 11**

**Now when you are broken in two**

**Can we try to make it up to you?**

_**Title from the song by T'Pau, album 'Rage'.**_

_**Where John reveals himself to be a bit of an artful Dodger (which is where Dean gets it from, the little rascal!), Sam clearly isn't out of the woods, Dean's a hard bastard even at such an early age as his injured arm is sutured without painkillers, and we have a quiet moment of contemplation with Bobby Singer.**_

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"Dean we need to take a look at your arm." John was rummaging through the first aid kit.

Dean didn't even look up. "Later." He was sitting on the main bed in the RV, Sam in his arms, still holding the fire-fighter's breathing apparatus over his brother's face. A spare set sat by the bathroom door; it hadn't taken John long to 'acquire' another oxygen tank either.

"_Now_ Dean! I don't want to have to deal with an infection on top of everything else." In spite of the harsh words, Dean heard the concern riding them, reluctantly laid Sam back against a pillow and checked he was resting comfortably before scooting forwards to sit on the edge of the bed.

John examined the wound then started cleaning it, thoroughly bathing it in peroxide. Dean kept glancing worriedly over at Sam, making sure his chest was still rising and falling.

First chance they had after Sam escaped the first floor of the hotel they were sneaking away from the fire and ambulance crews, who were looking after the victims of the explosion. It hadn't been easy with so many people having witnessed Sam's drop from the window; he was just a kid and had heroically been the last to leave the gathering inferno, so everyone would surely remember him.

As soon as they'd reached the RV, Dean had carried an extremely sick and barely conscious Sam on board whilst Bobby started the engine. A few minutes later John had appeared with the spare tank, winked at Dean and leapt on board with the agility of a cat. Sam had long since passed out from exhaustion by this time, his arms fallen limply to his sides, and Dean watched his brother's peaceful yet soot stained face under the mask.

When he'd later woken up again Dean had smiled shakily down at him.

"How ya doin' kiddo?" he mouthed carefully.

Sam had just stared up at him, blinking rapidly and Dean grew anxious that something else was wrong. Lifting the face mask away he peered closely at Sam and realised what the problem was. His brother's eyes looked gritty and bloodshot from the fumes and he could barely see through the tears leaking out; Sam kept reaching up to rub them, trying to loosen the dirt.

"No! Sam, don't rub them buddy, you'll just make it worse!"

Dean had grabbed both his slim wrists in one hand and removed the saline eyewash from the first aid kit with the other, then flooded Sam's eyes as gently as he could. Sam resisted at first when the cool liquid stung his eyes and he cried out, trying to twist out of Dean's grip. As Dean tightened his hold, John helped hold Sam's head still and another bottle of eyewash 

was used up. On the third bottle Sam settled down and the saline became a soothing balm to his soot ridden eyes.

Sam's coughing bouts were thankfully fairly intermittent by now but Dean still kept a close eye on him and once he'd cleaned him up he reapplied the breathing mask. Dean wasn't just worried about smoke inhalation, though that was a big enough problem all on its own. The fumes given off by melting plastic, for example, were highly toxic and Dean had no way of knowing how much, if any, Sam had breathed in. And that was _on top_ of his previous injuries.

_I should never have left him!_

His father seemed to read his mind and grabbed his shoulder and growled. "Don't even think for a minute this was your fault! No way could any of us have predicted this."

It was only vaguely comforting.

It was Sam's turn now to watch his brother, and he lay on the bed eyes at half mast, eyebrows pulled down into a concerned frown as John cleaned the cut on Dean's arm. His dad bit is own lip in sympathy and used a pair of sterilised forceps to remove an evil looking shard of glass, but now it seemed there was more to come.

"I think a piece broke off inside, and it needs to come out." John glanced at Dean as if seeking permission to continue, though it wouldn't have matter either way. That foreign body wasn't staying in his son's arm, like it or not.

Dean nodded sharply but said nothing.

His only reaction was a small flinch when his father dug a little deeper, but other than that he remained silent, even managing to smile reassuringly at Sam when he noticed his little brother's worried expression.

"I'm ok, Sam." He mouthed, but Sam didn't look convinced, and only seemed to relax once the glass was removed from his brother's arm and John started suturing.

As soon as his dad finished off with a bandage and cleaned up the blood, Dean was back sitting by Sam. His little brother's breathing was still laboured, shakily drawing the oxygen in and trying not to start coughing again.

"Thir...sty..." Sam croaked out, his throat sounding sore as hell and Dean removed the mask again, allowing him to slowly sip at some water.

Dean's eyes watered in sympathy when Sam writhed in pain, choking and gasping until he was taken by full on hacking coughs. The water had obviously gone down the wrong way. He helped Sam to sit upright and rubbed his back with one hand but still using the other to hold the respirator in place.

John sat beside them both and wrapped an arm round Sam's waist, helping to support him. "He'll be ok Dean."

Dean threw him a nervous smile, a quick "Yes sir" and turned his attention back to Sam, whose head hung down exhaustedly, taking small breaths. But at least the coughing had stopped. Raising his kid brother's chin Dean stared into tired, sad eyes.

"Try to get some sleep kiddo."

But Sam's eyes were already closing as his tired young body succumbed to sleep. Dean, after removing the mask, stayed up for the next few hours watching over him, whilst Dad 

persuaded Bobby to finally take a break and let him drive. Winking at Dean, Bobby laid back on one of the pull out beds, tipped his hat over his eyes and was asleep instantly.

And it wasn't long before Dean followed suit.

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Sam slowly woke up around two am, his throat feeling as though he'd swallowed sand paper. He glanced at the nightstand, feeling the gentle sway of the RV trying to lure him back to sleep, and realised he'd drunk all the water Dean had given him hours before. Tiredly throwing back the covers Sam shifted his legs until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, then sat and waited for the dizziness to pass. He fought the urge to cough his lungs up again but it was tough going. He noted that his father was back in the main cab again. The last thing he wanted to do was wake his dad and brother, or distract Bobby from his driving.

Bobby had taken over the driving again a few hours ago so John could keep a close eye on both his sons, but also because it wouldn't be long before dawn was on the approach and he didn't want to run the risk of John being seen at the wheel.

Finally Sam shakily stood up and fumbled his way across the darkened cab to the cooler unit, but before he could even get the door open and reach for a bottle of water, he felt the tell tale tickle in the back of his throat and the burning irritation in his lungs. He couldn't hold it in any longer and clung to the kitchen work top; the coughs once again wracked his body and 

his vision started greying out. He just couldn't catch his breath and as his lungs were continually denied oxygen, Sam was helpless to prevent the slide into unconsciousness.

Dean snapped awake and glanced around trying to find Sam, and darted across the cab just as Sam's eyes rolled back in his head.

"Sam!" _what in hell is he doing out of bed?_

Catching him with an arm round his waist and holding Sam's head up with a hand under his chin, Dean dragged Sam back to the bed, yelling for his dad, who woke up immediately and dashed over, grabbing the spare breathing apparatus as he went.

"Here, put this on him. The other one's almost empty." John's voice was full of urgency, which deepened when Sam's breathing became wet and raspy. "Hurry!"

Even with the respirator fixed over his face, Sam was still struggling.

Dean glanced over at his father with troubled eyes. "Dad...please..." he whispered.

John closed his eyes and nodded. They were going to have to stop somewhere and get Sam checked over. This couldn't go on much longer. "Next town we come to I'll find us a medical centre." He stared at Sam's face through the mask and watched as his youngest son's mouth gaped open like a fish out of water, body trembling with the effort of trying to breathe.

John moved over to the front of the cab to warn Bobby, who'd been frantically glancing in the review mirror after hearing Dean's shout.

"Get us to a clinic as soon as you can. Sam's in real bad shape." John scrubbed a hand over his face. He couldn't believe how badly he'd fucked things up.

"John?" Bobby looked over at him worriedly. "You had to decide which was the immediate threat at the time. And at _that_ time it was Marco."

"I should have gotten Sam straight to the paramedics and let them help him. _That_ should have been the immediate priority!" John fumed. "But now..." He watched Dean stroking Sam's scalp, the only comfort he could offer given that Sam couldn't hear the soft words his brother murmured as he gently rocked him to and fro.

"And let Marco and his goons catch up to us? You aiming for a brand new concrete over-coat and downward cruise in the nearest river?" Bobby growled back. "'Cos that's what would've happened John and you damn well know it!"

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John sat in silence for most of journey, watching over his sons. Sam was still unconscious but his body instinctively arched upwards with every attempt to breathe. It was getting worse and as his youngest son's lips gradually started turning blue, John realised that Sam's lungs were trying to expel something from his respiratory tract.

"Dean! Sit 'im up quickly before he chokes!" John grabbed a Kleenex and Dean ripped off the mask. What came out of Sam's mouth was a terrifying glob of almost black sputum, and it kept on coming as Sam gurgled and gagged on the horrible stuff.

"Easy Sammy!" Dean whispered, tucking Sam's head under his own chin. Sam might not have been able to hear him but it certainly made Dean feel a little better. The sight of that 

dark sludge coming out of Sam's lungs was disgusting on so many levels, but it also terrified him because Dean's earlier suspicions about exactly what and how much Sam had inhaled might have been confirmed.

As soon as the worst had passed Sam's breathing seemed to become a little easier for him, but the mask went back on regardless. Dean wasn't taking any chances.

"Almost drove passed it!" Bobby called from the front of the RV as he stopped and reversed up. "Damn place is smaller than I remembered."

John lifted one of the shades covering the rear window and glanced out. It was still fairly dark outside but the dirty yellow street light shining dully by a small building, revealed the place to indeed be a medical centre. St Margaret's Medical Centre to be exact, although it looked more like a cowshed. Bobby must have driven down some serious back roads to find this place because John was pretty certain it wasn't even on the map. As if reading John's mind Bobby gave a grim smile.

"Doesn't look much but believe me it's the real deal."

John glanced at him quizzically. "You've been here before?"

All he got was a shrug and a "once, years ago" as his answer, and it seemed that was all Bobby was going to tell him.

"Come on, let's get Sam out. Maybe the fresh air will help him." John jumped down from the RV and held out his arms to take Sam from Dean. Leaving the fire-fighter's breathing equipment in the RV to avoid suspicion, John, Sam in his arms, with Dean worriedly keeping pace, strode over to the clinic, hoping and praying that someone was there at this ungodly hour.

Dean started hammering on the door. "Open up! It's an emergency!"

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Bobby parked up around back under the thick over hanging branches of a weeping willow. He was pretty sure they hadn't been followed because he hadn't seen a single car coming from either direction since the previous evening, but everything they did these days was all about 'just in case'.

Fortunately he hadn't needed to drive too far off course to get here; in fact it even served them well. As fast as they needed to get Sam and Dean to Montana they also needed to avoid as many major public highways as possible, sticking to backwaters and hick towns. That much he and John had discussed in low tones during the night when both boys were fast asleep. They were anxious to turn on the news, find out what had been reported about the explosion, see if any mention of foul play came up, but Dean and Sam both needed the rest.

Now it seemed that Sam had been badly affected by the smoke, Dean had a nasty cut on his arm, Marco was hot on their heels, and Montana was still at least a week's drive away.

Bobby was starting to wonder if it wasn't such a bad idea to wait until Sam had recovered, head for the nearest airport, ditch the RV and book some seats on the next flight out. Trouble with that theory was that Marco, either by luck or design, knew the Winchester's were in the area and therefore it was a pretty safe bet that any local mode of public transport was currently subject to real close scrutiny. Plus they'd have to know that Sam was injured, and as a result his family wouldn't risk him being jostled or lost in some busy terminal building. 

So private airfields weren't an option either and besides, Marco owned most of those anyhow.

So they were still stuck with the RV and though it was safe and comfortable enough for an injured Sam, _speed_ wise...well...a snail pulling a pile of elephant crap would've made better time.

Bobby stretched his back, popped his joints and took a few deep breaths of cold early morning air, glad for the chance to stretch his legs. Glancing round he smiled faintly. It'd been a long time since he was last here yet nothing had really changed. The willow was even more overgrown by now, and yes, the old derelict farm tractor in the corner by the barn looked even more derelict if that were entirely possible, and the barn itself seemed more fragile now as though the elements were gradually stealing away its very soul, year by year. The whole place was quite literally in the middle of nowhere, with only the med centre, a church, a tavern that doubled as the grocers, and an old school that had fallen into disuse years ago. Young people didn't settle in places like this anymore; they chose cities, suburbs, towns maybe, but not lonely backwater out-of-the-way places. The few locals left round here use to joke that they could always get away with cheating on their taxes because the IRS didn't even know this place existed.

And that was why he'd brought the Winchester's here. If speed wasn't on their side, then maybe time would be. Time enough for Sam to heal properly.

It was a universal law: If the IRS couldn't find you, then absolutely _no one _could.

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_**Author's notes:**_

This chapter was going to be longer and take you through to Montana, but with everything going on at the mo I wasn't able to finish it up the way I wanted; but I had to give you something.

My apologies.

'Til next time my darlings. Let me know...

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	12. Chapter 12

**In The Arms Of Love Chapter 12**

_**Title from the song by T'pau (Rage)**_

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_**Dean snapped awake and glanced around trying to find Sam, and darted across the cab just as Sam's eyes rolled back in his head.**_

"_**Sam!" what in hell is he doing out of bed?**_

_**Catching him with an arm round his waist and holding Sam's head up with a hand under his chin, Dean dragged Sam back to the bed, yelling for his dad, who woke up immediately and dashed over, grabbing the spare breathing apparatus as he went.**_

"_**Here, put this on him. The other one's almost empty." John's voice was full of urgency, which deepened when Sam's breathing became wet and raspy. "Hurry!"**_

_**Even with the respirator fixed over his face, Sam was still struggling.**_

_**Dean glanced over at his father with troubled eyes. "Dad...please..." he whispered.**_

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__

_**John moved over to the front of the cab to warn Bobby, who'd been frantically glancing in the review mirror after hearing Dean's shout.**_

"_**Get us to a clinic as soon as you can. Sam's in real bad shape." John scrubbed a hand over his face. He couldn't believe how badly he'd fucked things up.**_

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Dean continued frantically hammering on the door. "Please! You have to help us!"

"Calm down son. Panickin' aint gonna help Sam." John smiled sadly at Dean.

Dean hung his head and nodded before turning to stare at his little brother, so motionless in their father's arms.

_God he's so pale…._

His thoughts were interrupted before they really got started when someone approached the other side of the opaque glass door. The shadow of what must have been the world's largest nose was shoved right up against the glass, a beady eye swivelling round and glaring at them.

"_What ya want?" _A voice bellowed out, making Dean jump slightly.

Given that he'd already noticed Dean's hackles rising at the obnoxious tone seeping through the glass, John thought it best if he answered the man - and he was pretty sure it was a man, though nothing surprised him these days.

"My youngest son's been in a fire and inhaled a lot of smoke; he needs help." John eyed what little he could see of the guy's face with what he hoped was a pleading expression. 

Fortunately, Sam didn't inherit those puppy dog eyes of his from thin air, and pretty soon the guy could be heard unfastening the lock.

The door was wrenched open, revealing the ugliest creature John and Dean had ever seen. It was apparently human because goats didn't normally wear spectacles or lab coats, and were usually taller.

_Oh yeah. Easily, the biggest nose in the world. I could use that damn thing as a ski jump,_ Dean realised he was staring and abruptly gave him - _it?-_ a friendly smile.

"Lessee!" The guy – _Leprachaun? Banshee? _ 

-leaned over the unconscious boy and reached out a hand – _claw?_

– causing John to shift back ever so slightly; the tiny man's eyes shot up to John's face and heard the faint protective growl coming from the older boy as he shifted closer to his sick brother.

"Can't help 'im if I can't examine him." His voice had softened and he didn't look in the least bit afraid. "You _did_ come here for ma help, din'tcha?"

After a small pause for consideration, John gave a slight nod. The strange man in the lab coat reached out again and with surprising gentleness brushed his hand against Sam's cheek, then smiled.

It was the smile that caused John and Dean to both stifle a gasp. It lit up the guy's face, making him seem almost human. The hand on Sam's face slid down to his neck, feeling for a pulse and the little man tilted his head to one side, studying the sleeping boy, almost as though he were listening to something. The hand slid down again to this time rest over Sam's heart.

With a sudden movement that surprised the hell out of John and Dean, their new friend nodded, spun round and marched back into the building, yelling over his shoulder.

"Yup, I can help, it aint too late. _Yet! _Get the kid in my clinic room and up on the bed." He pointed to a dark wooden door as he passed it, heading for a sink unit. He pumped the soap dispenser then thoroughly washed his hands, before turning back. The man holding the young kid stood there warily, as did the boy standing beside him. The little guy's eyebrows climbed to the top of his head. "Watcha waitin' for ? Git!" And pointed once again, jabbing his finger in the direction of the wooden door.

John glanced at Dean and gave him a slight nod, before stepping carefully inside the glass entrance. In spite of the whole cow-shed look and the griminess of the outside, everything _inside _looked clean and well scrubbed, and the air even smelled fresh. He noticed protective symbols on various walls, subtle in that they were the same colour as the paint work, but the trained eye could pick them out, embossed on the background. Dean spied a Native American dream catcher suspended in a window out back.

"John? Dean?" Bobby could be heard arriving at the entrance to the clinic. "I've parked up. Have you met…?" He stopped and stared, then strode forward, hand out-stretched. "Well, darn. You still alive you ol'coot?" A smile broke out on Bobby's face.

"Well, well, well. Bobby Singer as I live and breathe!" The strange little man grabbed Bobby's offered hand and pumped it up and down appreciatively, tears of joy shining in his eyes. "How long's it been now?"

Bobby grinned. "Not long enough if you're still around, you ol' buzzard!" Then swept the little guy up in a hug, feet dangling helplessly. After he dropped him gently to the floor, 

Bobby turned to face the silent and staring Winchesters. "This here is Arthur Donnelly, local quack, merchant, and lawman."

Dean gaped at the last one until John whispered "Dean, don't stare. We've come across stranger."

"Not by much." Dean whispered back, words a little distorted as he muttered out the corner of his mouth. John had to fight the urge to laugh as he stepped into the clinic room, gently laid his youngest son on the bed, then turned and offered a hand to Arthur. John was surprised at the handshake; Arthur's skin was pleasantly smooth and warm, in spite of the claw-like appearance.

Arthur squinted up at him. "You must be John Winchester?" He turned to Dean. "You must be Dean, and you young man…" Arthur moved over to the bed and sighed sorrowfully. "You must be Samuel. Heard a lot 'boutcha kid." He shook his head in sympathy as he reached for a medical mask. "Such a lota pain for one so young." He carried on talking softly, as he gently placed the mask over Sam's mouth and nose then turned the wheel on the tank. A soft hissing noise indicated that Sam was getting plenty of oxygen and Arthur turned to the kid's family.

"I'll need to examine him. Alone." When Dean made to protest, Arthur held up a hand. "I don't work with well audiences; can't stand all the damn questions when I'm tryin' ta listen to someone's pain. Now out!" He grinned at Bobby. "RV safe out back? Good. Now go get that bottle a Jameson's Irish you got stashed in the glove compartment!"

Bobby smirked. "You don't change. Always could smell the Irish a mile off."

Arthur glared at him pointedly. "Try a couple miles. I aint old yet!"

Dean coughed on hearing that. The guy had to be in his nineties if he was a day!

"Come on Dean, John. There's some coffee in reception, that still right Arthur?" When Arthur merely nodded before heading back into Sam's room and closing the door, Bobby took a firm grip on John and Dean, and frog marched them away down to the reception area, Dean dragging his feet a little as he kept glancing back at the closed door worriedly.

"Sam's safe with Arthur. He's an ornery old bastard but a sound doctor, and a good man."

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"How dya know him Bobby?" Dean sipped his coffee, anxiously awaiting an answer.

"He helped me out once or twice when I was injured during a hunt near here. Long time ago now. Vampires." Bobby put his mug down when he detected John's start of surprise.

"Thought they were extinct?" Suggested Dean, as leant back in his seat.

"Never underestimate the supernatural son." John smiled grimly. "Sometimes these things can find a way back."

"That's right." Bobby agreed. "I've lost count of the number o' times an arrogant hunter came back and declared that all vampires, or werewolves, or whatever hell legend they were hunting at the time, were _extinct!_ And sooner or later someone runs into a nest, or finds stories of hearts ripped out, patterns of lunar cycles, and the whole damn thing starts all over again. Not like the world of hunters has a research unit to keep a proper track of things."

The three fell silent for a moment until Dean spoke up hesitantly.

"Supposing Sam wakes up and we're not there?" Troubled young eyes met his father's. "He'll be scared Dad, he doesn't know Arthur."

"Believe it or not, Arthur's already made a connection with Sam. He'll be fine." Bobby answered, then let out a soft chuckle. "Arthur's sort of a Human Whisperer. He can hear your pain without you sayin' a word."

"So he knows that Sam's…Sam can't hear?" Dean still hadn't been able to bring himself to use the 'D' word yet. Or _hearing impaired _the more politically correct version_._ He felt that in doing so made it all _final_ and he wasn't prepared for that. He wondered if he ever would be.

"Yep. He knows kid." Bobby set his own mug down on the desk.

"How did he know us?" Dean was starting to sound like Sam, full of questions, demanding answers. John said nothing but raised an eyebrow as if silently asking the same.

"I called ahead when we left the hospital, told the receptionist we might need assistance. But I didn't realise Arthur still ran the place." Bobby smiled lightly. "Sam's in good hands here."

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"Where's that damn whiskey boy?" Bobby swung round in his seat to find Arthur glaring good naturedly down his long goat-like nose at him. Chuckling Bobby lifted the Jameson's bottle and poured a healthy measure for himself, John and the grizzled old Doctor. Dean had already headed back to Sam's room, forgoing the offer of a dram in order to watch over his brother.

"How's my son?" John wanted to know before he'd even raised the tumbler to his lips.

"He's gonna be fine, jus' needs some rest." Arthur thumped down in the seat vacated by Dean. "Got 'im on Heliox to help his breathin' so he shouldn't have to work too hard. Kid's gonna be coughin' up some gunk for a few days; sounds to me like he inhaled some nasty gases durin' that fire."

"Heliox?" John enquired worriedly.

"Mixture of helium and oxygen." Arthur launched into an explanation. "Normally the lungs pull in oxygen and nitrogen, amongst other things. But helium is less dense than nitrogen so it don't take so much effort to breathe when the respiratory tract's compromised. That should also help ease the pressure on his bruised ribs. There's always a risk of pneumonia where smoke inhalation's concerned but I reckon we caught it jus' in time …" Arthur knocked back the entire tumbler of whiskey and indicated impatiently that Bobby should pour him another. "How's ya other boy? His arm ok? Couldn't help but notice he was favourin'."

"Glass shrapnel from the explosion at the hotel." John didn't see any point in covering it up. This old bastard knew everything it seemed, and strangely enough that didn't bother John in the slightest, even though he'd only just met Arthur.

Arthur nodded. "I'll take a look at it jus' as soon as he can tear hiself away from his brother." He grinned. "Protective over the kid huh? Never felt such a bond between two brothers."

John smiled down into his own whiskey. "Yeah, he sure is."

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"Hey kid." Dean called softly, knowing it was futile "you gonna wake up for me? Just for a little while."

Arthur had taken the time to reassure him that Sam would recover in a few days but needed special treatment in the meantime. When Dean protested lightly over the use of the medical mask, the old guy explained that Sam needed help with his breathing until he'd expelled 'all the crap in his lungs' as he put it. Sam was unconscious because he was worn out from being unable to breathe properly, but Arthur was adamant that Sam wouldn't suffer long term damage from oxygen depletion.

Dean hadn't argued. The guy obviously knew what he was talking about.

By the time dawn finally arrived, he'd fallen asleep in the chair, slumped over the edge of the bed, head resting on Sam's hand, which he had grasped in both his own. It was a testament to just how exhausted he was that he didn't hear Arthur enter the room, didn't feel the dressing on his arm being removed and replaced by fresh gauze, and even when Arthur took the opportunity to give him a mild antibiotic injection he didn't stir.

Arthur checked Sam's blood pressure and oxygen saturation then nodded, satisfied that his patient was doing better.

He raised Dean's head and shuffled a pillow underneath.

One quick smile and the elderly doctor left the room.

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Bobby and John had spent the last few days in deep discussion. Routes had been planned, discarded, picked up again, and there had been more than a few arguments along the way.

Arthur, refusing to get involved, had shaken his head, rolled his beady little eyes and wandered off to check on his patient.

They also caught up with the news reports; the devastation caused by the blast at the hotel seemed worse somehow. But the part that had shaken them was the clip of a teenager hanging from the first floor window, losing his grip and falling.

The newscaster reported that the kid had been pronounced a hero; several people who'd been staying at the hotel described how a young man with a speech impediment had kept his cool, and shown them how to get out with as little injury as possible, refusing to leave until they were all safe. With the exception of the poor lady who'd fallen awkwardly, no one had suffered any serious injuries.

The news report repeated the image of the kid falling from the window once more only this time the image zoomed in a little. If you knew who you were looking for it was quite clearly Sam Winchester.

John and Bobby were silent for a moment, thinking about the implications of this. If Marco had seen it, and the chances were he was watching all local news channels like a hawk, then he knew Sam had survived.

Eventually, they came to a decision. They would take the most direct route but at the same time using the most obscure back roads possible. Sam was on the mend, having coughed up what looked to Dean like a ton of ectoplasm, and it wouldn't be long before he was fit enough to travel, though Arthur had expressed some concern over the bruises on Sam's body. His face was healing, but he'd obviously hurt his ribs and abdomen again when he fell from the hotel window.

A few minor blood and urine tests indicated there were no kidney problems though the doctor instructed them to keep an eye out for any possible complications.

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Dean immediately dropped his magazine when he heard a small muffled noise from the bed, and got up to check on his little brother. Apart from bringing up toxins from his lungs, Sam had been pretty much out of it the last few days.

And so Sam fully woke up to his big brother grinning down at him.

"Hey Sammy. You with me dude?"

Sam blinked lazily up at him and nodded. "Yeah." He croaked out and tried to remove the mask, but Dean batted his hand away.

"Nuhuh! You leave that on. It's supposed to make breathing easier on ya." When Sam stared at him sadly, Dean realised that he desperately needed to see his little brother smile again. And he knew the perfect solution: pretend pig ignorance and Sam would soon cheer up. "Somethin' called Hellox, which sounds like a kinda rocket fuel if ya ask me, so I won't be goin' near ya with any naked flames…"

It had the desired effect. Sam giggled then started coughing lightly. "It's called Heliox dude!" He announced once he got his breath back.

"I figured _you'd_ know what that meant geek boy!" Dean grinned again, still marvelling at how fast Sam had got the hang of lip reading.

Sam shrugged. "D…did a p…paper on it at s…school for science class." He tried to swallow but winced in discomfort "throat's sore. C…could I have some w…water?"

Dean froze a little. It was almost like a flashback of when he'd pulled Sam from the trunk of the Impala; flushed and dangerously ill from heat stroke, he'd begged for water shortly before he stopped breathing. In fact, lately Dean had been having trouble sleeping, and seemed to spend most of his time on edge. Whenever he did eventually drop off to sleep, he was plagued with bad dreams about losing Sam.

Sam noticed that his older brother had suddenly gone pale. "D…Dean? You o…ok bro?"

Dean seemed to come back from wherever he'd drifted off to and gave a shaky smile. "Sure. I'm fine. I'll go get you some ice chips." Trying to act more like himself, he pointed at the mask again with a mock frown. "Remove that and I'll kick your ass!"

Dean's troubled sleep hadn't gone unnoticed by Arthur; when speaking to his father about Sam's prescriptions and continued aftercare, he mentioned it to John.

"I used an herbal sleeping remedy on him and Sam a few nights ago; that seemed to work." John explained.

"Keep on usin' it. That kid needs to sleep." Arthur had studied him silently and so intensely that it made John nervous. "It aint jus' Sam that needs help. Ya oldest boy has to learn how to deal with his fears or it'll kill 'im. Get 'im talkin' soon as ya can."

That kind of scared John because he wasn't so sure he was the best person to be helping Dean cope with all that'd happened.

_Pick up ya kit and soldier on_, _and thank whatever god ya believe in that it weren't you._ That was the Marine code.

In a nut shell, John wasn't so sure he was coping all that well himself.

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__

It was time to move on.

When it came to Dean's turn to shake hands with the old doctor, Arthur held his hand in a surprisingly firm grip for a second. "Now you look after yaself as well as you look after ya little brother, an' everythin'll be fine," he said quietly. Leaning in closer so that Dean was staring down into a pair of kind watery blue eyes, he added "can't keep your Sammy safe if ya runnin' on half empty boy!"

Dean just blinked and nodded tiredly.

As soon as they hit the road again, leaving the ancient doctor standing outside the clinic watching them, the boys were asleep again. Once Dean had carried Sam on board the RV, John insisted on Sam and Dean both drinking some warm milk, which he'd laced with the sleeping draft.

This time he made it clear to them what was in it, reluctant to lie to them this time round. He needed their absolute trust, but he also felt he was making a point; Dean now knew his father was aware of his struggles.

"Dad, I'm ok." Dean had frowned at John, somewhat annoyed at the notion he was weak. John soon put pay to that.

"Listen Dean. You've taken a lot on your shoulders and you deserve a break. That's all dude." John gave him a firm but kind smile. "There aint no shame in admittin' you need help. Now drink ya milk."

Dean obeyed though not without muttering about how much better it would taste with a shot of whiskey, and grumbled that he hadn't drunk warm milk since he was ten. But Bobby had left the whiskey with Arthur as a 'thank you' for all his help.

John watched his boys for a while, both sleeping peacefully. The draft would help restore a little balance to their rather troubled lives and hopefully give them the rest they needed.

As far as Bobby and John were concerned this was the last leg of the journey, even if it would prove the longest.

No more unscheduled stops except for gas. If they had to take a break then they would find a stretch of woodland and sleep in the RV, way back and hidden from the road.

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Marco watched the news report again, scowling deeply. His body guard had lost count of how many times he'd been forced to watch Sam Winchester's fall from the first floor. He tried very hard not roll his eyes when the boss played it yet again; rolling your eyes at the boss in this business would likely result in losing said eyes, probably by way of a red hot poker.

But now Marco fast forwarded to another news scene. The field reporter was young, attractive and blond, though that wasn't what caught Marco's attention.

"…_**the hotel management have promised full refunds to all clients and have assured them that all will be relocated free of charge at the nearest available hotel. Any further enquiries…"**_

In the background Marco spied a familiar figure carrying a fire-fighter's respirator. He watched as the figure opened the door to an RV and jumped up, closing the door behind him. Marco didn't need a magnifying glass to know that it was John Winchester.

"Get Tony in here now! I want that footage blown up, zoomed in, whatever the hell you guys call it." Marco paused the image and pointed to the vehicle in question on-screen. "I want the licence plate of that RV!"

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_**Author's notes:**_

For the rest of you kind supportive souls out there that didn't complain and bugger up my Winchester Vs Clarkson story, love you all, and please let me know what you think of this chapter.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	13. Chapter 13

**In The Arms Of Love Chapter 13**

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_**Arthur held his hand in a surprisingly firm grip for a second. "Now you look after yaself as well as you look after ya little brother, an' everythin'll be fine," he said quietly. Leaning in closer so that Dean was staring down into a pair of kind watery blue eyes, he added "can't keep your Sammy safe if ya runnin' on half empty boy!"**_

_**Dean just blinked and nodded tiredly**_

_**.**_

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"…the hotel management have promised full refunds to all clients and have assured them that all will be relocated free of charge at the nearest available hotel. Any further enquiries…"

_**In the background Marco spied a familiar figure carrying a fire-fighter's respirator. He watched as the figure opened the door to an RV and jumped up, closing the door behind him. Marco didn't need a magnifying glass to know that it was John Winchester.**_

__

"_**Get Tony in here now! I want that footage blown up, zoomed in, whatever the hell you guys call it." Marco paused the image and pointed to the vehicle in question on-screen. "I want the licence plate of that RV!"**_

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John watched his boys sleep as he set about cleaning the weapons. It was always a source of amusement to him; Sam would drool, Dean would snore, but neither one woke the other. They just slept in harmony.

Not so long ago, Dean and Sam would have balked at the idea of sharing a bed again; they hadn't done so in years and both boys considered themselves far too mature for that. But nowadays Dean didn't like being more than a few feet away from his little brother and Sam was plagued by nightmares. John still had to be careful how he went about waking his youngest son for any reason. Sam's inability to hear had him jumpy at the slightest touch, and that in turn had Dean on edge. John kept all weapons away from the boys whilst they slept.

It would have been quite comical if it weren't so damn sad.

As agreed before leaving Arthur's clinic Bobby kept the RV on the back roads, and off the main roads and highways. It wasn't easy and John knew they were going to have to break cover at some point, if only briefly. In fact, Bobby had announced they would have to stop for gas in a few hours or so, and the nearest pumps were pretty much out in the open.

They refused to fool themselves into thinking that Marco didn't have informants out this far. He came from a large family, had a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, and though his relatives didn't think much of him, family loyalty was a strong motto.

Sam made a small noise of distress in his sleep and Dean, without waking, instinctively shifted closer, an arm snaking round Sam's waist. His little brother calmed instantly and settled back into a deep sleep.

By this time the day had gone by in a bit if a blur. One field became pretty much like another, cows stared at them morosely, boring looking trees grew in odd clumps here and there, and the only things of interest were the signs advertising a charity church dance in the next town. Somehow John didn't think the boys would be all that anxious to stop off and take a look, so they kept on going until the sun began the steady descent across the sky, a new moon already waxing in its wake.

"John?" Bobby whispered loudly from the driver's seat. "Gonna have to head out for gas, then we'll find somewhere to settle for the night. Ok?"

John nodded and made his way to the front of the RV. "Sure. Where 'bouts?"

"There's a gas station about three miles from here on the main highway. It's a little exposed but we don't have much choice." Replied Bobby, already manoeuvring the heavy vehicle onto the slip road.

John just nodded worriedly and said nothing. Rather than leaving it until they were already at the service station, John stepped back into the dark depths of the RV, and sat down near his boys. Bobby would get the fuel then go pay for it whilst the Winchesters stayed out of sight. But as he stood there with the nozzle jammed into the tank, Bobby couldn't help but look 

around him uneasily. He had the distinct impression he was being watched; pulling the peak of his cap low over his face, Bobby's eyes darted about discreetly, taking in everything, everyone, licence plates, the number and likely age of any people travelling alone. And as he went to pay someone caught his eye.

There was nothing remotely suspicious looking about him. He was tall with a crop of short, dark hair and a casual demeanour as he rifled through a few magazines. But it was when Bobby looked up and caught the guy staring at him intently in the security mirror that Bobby's eyes narrowed. As he hurried back to the RV he threw a quick glance over his shoulder to observe the guy leaving the store and talking into his cell phone.

It might have been nothing. It could've been a coincidence that the guy happened to be staring at Bobby in the mirror, but he sorely doubted it, and on discussion John doubted it too.

"Let's go." John nodded and kept a wary eye out as Bobby revved the engine and pulled out back onto the road. A sharp glance into the side mirrors revealed no one was following but John and Bobby didn't dare heave a sigh of relief yet.

"Best we keep going 'til we hit the forestry commission," suggested Bobby. "It's a few hours out but I'll feel happier if we put some distance between us and that guy."

"Right. I'll get blankets and pillows ready. S'gonna be a cold night." John went back to check on his boys. Dean was just starting to stir, blinking heavily until he stared at his father.

"Dad? What's wrong? Sam ok?" Dean's sixth sense was kicking in already.

John sighed a little. "Yeah he's fine, it's just that we may have been spotted at the gas station a while back."

Dean frowned. "We gotta tail?"

"Nope. Not so far." Though John knew that didn't mean anything. He discussed with his eldest son their plan to keep going until they reached the forest then spend the night in the RV.

"Cool. We could use the fresh air." Dean stretched again then nudged his younger brother with an elbow, expecting to elicit an annoyed groan. "Aint that right squirt?"

Instead, Sam jumped as his eyes snapped open and he frowned anxiously. "What?!" He sounded so scared that Dean reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze to get his attention.

"Easy Sam. Sorry dude, wasn't thinking." Dean smiled sadly then told Sam about their sleeping arrangements for the night. "What dya say? It'll be like camping but with all the luxuries of home. Which means no having to duck behind a damn bush!" He left out the part about the gas station. Sam had enough to worry about as it was without thinking there might be someone on to them already.

Sam offered up a small, amused grin. "Y...yeah, and g...given that the moon's already r...risen that's the last thing anyone n...needs to see this t...time of night, huh Dean?" Dean just scowled deeply.

John snorted. "We'll be there in a few hours. Soon as we're settled I'll get some food goin'."

John's sons suddenly stared at one another in horror. Even Bobby cast a terrified look John's way. John Winchester's cooking skills were legendary for being utterly abysmal, and had been known to cause ghosts and spirits of a certain calibre to turn and run when they saw him 

coming. Rock salt, silver bullets, Ritual Romanum...all effectiveness paled into insignificance when compared to the John Winchester Special: Tuna Lasagne with jalapeno peppers. Not even Garfield, the great feline lasagne eater himself would have risked it. At least, not without a blindfold and nose peg.

Dean smiled weakly at his father. "Uh...I can take care of that Dad. You must have things you need to do."

John grinned. "Scared ya huh? I _meant_ sandwiches." And laughed at Sam's smirk.

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"Yeah. They were here a few minutes ago; same licence plate number. I've already been made but I think I can follow at a discreet enough distance. It's getting dark so I'll just keep the headlights off." He watched the RV trundle off into the night as he listened to Marco. "Nope. They're heading onto the forest roads so it'll be pretty secluded."

He listened for a few more seconds then nodded. "Understood boss."

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As soon as they were several miles into the forest and Bobby was satisfied they were on their own, he slowed right down before turning the wheel and driving off the road onto one of the 

side tracks. Heading as far from the road as possible before parking up, Bobby watched as John and Dean leapt out and performed a quick recon of the area. The sun had set long ago and the moon cast weird shadows on the forest floor, giving Dean the impression of long arms reaching out to grab him. He gave himself a mental shake and stared hard into the darker shadows. A deer barking loudly nearby had him spinning round, trying to find the source of the noise, and a cold tingle spread slowly down his spine.

"Dean?" He vaguely heard his father call, but his gaze was intent on the shadows, watching for any sign of movement. Finally he backed away towards the RV and John got his attention at last. "What's wrong son?"

Dean shook his head. "I'm a little jumpy that's all, Dad. Still tired I guess." But John noticed how Dean couldn't keep his eyes off the forest. Now that he thought about it, there was a tense _expectancy_ in the air, a strange atmosphere as though the dwellers of the forest were waiting for something. He suddenly realised what it was; silence. With the exception of the occasional bark of the deer, the forest was dead quiet.

And it just didn't feel right.

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Sam peered out at the forest; his heart was more than a little troubled as he watched the expression on Dean's face.

_Dean doesn't trust this place._

In all honesty, neither did Sam.

"Sammy, get back in the RV," Dean called softly. He didn't like the idea of Sam setting foot out here let alone go wandering around, but Sam couldn't see his mouth in the moonlit gloom and stepped out, stretching his legs and giving his poor battered body a dose of fresh air. It smelt pleasant enough, certainly a nice change to the confines of the RV and as Sam started to relax he felt a cool breeze lightly ruffle his hair. Maybe the woodland wasn't so bad after all and Dean was just being over-protective as usual. Not that Sam could blame him after everything they'd been through, but he worried that Dean was taking too much on, that this whole thing was driving him a little crazy.

A soft sigh whispered on the breeze and Sam closed his eyes, the scent of pinewood gently invading his senses, feeling a cool, gentle caress on his neck. He didn't realise he was swaying until someone grabbed his arm, holding him up.

"Sammy?" That same someone touched a hand to his jaw and gently turned his head. Dean stared into his brother's sleepy eyes. "You ok dude? You look kinda..._stoned_."

Sam just blinked at him, and with a soft sigh collapsed were he stood.

"Sam!" Dean clamped his arms round him just as Sam's eyes rolled shut and his head fell forward onto Dean's shoulder. "Sammy? Shit, Dad!"

John glanced up when he heard the panic in Dean's voice and darted over to his sons. Dean was already checking Sam's breathing and pulse; he looked at his father in confusion.

"What is it son?"

"His heart rate's a little slow, but his breathing's normal." Dean frowned as he shifted Sam in his arms and laid a hand on his brother's forehead. "I don't get it. He's not running a fever, he's actually been feeling better this last day or so...what the hell just happened?"

"He's probably just over tired Dean, not to mention he hasn't really been eating all that well lately." Even as he said it John cast a worried and doubtful gaze at their surroundings. Hiding up for the night suddenly didn't seem like such a great idea. But if the guy in the gas station was one of Marco's then they really didn't have much choice. He was too close and this place might just be their last chance to throw the wolves off the scent.

Another wary glance at the tree line and John helped Dean get Sam to the RV, putting himself between his sons and the trees. He felt watched.

Something out there was watching them all, and John felt certain that whatever lurked in the forest, walked alone.

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Dean lay next to his little brother and watched Bobby settle into one of the pull-out beds. His father was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, the faint sound of bristles on enamel the only sound that disturbed the quiet.

"Ya know, there's an old tale about this forest." Bobby shifted, trying to get comfortable. "A witch was killed not far from here."

Dean looked surprised. "Yeah?"

"She was a good witch but the locals were afraid of her. She had the second sight. Pretty powerful according to legend. But her lover, a warlock, was bad news; seemed to like sacrificial rituals, loved to torture and brutalise his victims, and word had it that he was actually jealous of her powers. He could read the future too, but not as accurately. They say he betrayed her to the people, had her hanged and disembowelled." Bobby carried on droning away, his eyes closed. "Then, when he later found out his teenage son had inherited his mother's gifts, he did the same to him." He clicked his tongue. "Messy."

Dean knew what he was doing. Trying to take his mind of his worries and it sort of worked because it gave him something else to think about. "So you think she's still here? Seeking revenge?"

Bobby snorted. "Doubt it. She really loved the guy and had no idea what he'd done, though there _have _been reports over the years about a woman haunting this forest, searching for her lost son."

"And people wonder why I won't settle down huh? Relationships!" Dean closed his own eyes with a smirk. "You can keep 'em!"

__

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He watched the rear lights of the RV as it slowed and pulled off the road. Grinning, he flipped open his cell phone and placed a call.

"They're here."

_"Just hold off, keep watching them. I'll be there soon."_

A slight pause followed as he narrowed his eyes.

"Sure, boss."

As soon as the call disconnected, he was disobeying orders. Leaving the car and quietly closing the door, he stealthily disappeared into the trees, only a faint rustling in his wake.

He knew they weren't too far away, having heard the engine cut out behind a particularly dense patch of trees. Careful not to step on any snapping twigs, he crept forward. His night vision was the best in the business, which was why Marco had hired him in the first place.

The boxy outline of the RV wasn't hard to spot and he settled in to watch for a little while, waiting for the occupants to go to sleep.

A soft sigh in his ear made him jump and turned slowly to face an empty forest, eyes scanning the trees.

_What the hell was that?_

Footsteps sounding from the RV drew his wary attention back and he spotted young Sam Winchester staring into the night, seemingly in a trance. The kid raised his head, pale face catching the moonlight, then moved off into the trees.

He smirked. This was more than he could've hoped for. He'd planned to separate the family then take them out one at a time, but now it seemed he didn't even have to try. Breaking into a cocky grin, he slunk after the youngest Winchester, knife at the ready.

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_She watched him, as she always watched. The sweet young boy was coming to her...but who was that stranger in the darkness, stalking the child? She sensed danger, evil intent, smelt the blood and sweat..._

_She tasted the metal, the blade, saw the knife slice the young boys throat..._

_I should never have called to him._

_But I'm so cold and lonely...have been for so long...and now I've found him. Another seer...my son..._

_It's too dangerous. _

_Go back Sam, back to your family...you'll be protected._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean woke up, sweat beading on his forehead. He'd just had the weirdest dream and it left him shaking. His eyes widened with fear when he turned to the empty space next to him, and a light creaking from the front of the RV had him jumping out of bed. The door was open, swaying a little in the cool night breeze.

"Sam?" Dean crossed the room and shook his father awake. "Dad! Sam's gone!"

John sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "What? How?" How the hell had his youngest son managed to sneak out without anyone waking up?

"I don't know, but Dad, supposing that guy took him somehow? We have to go search for him!" Dean paused when his dad grabbed his arm, stopping him from leaving. "Let go of me, I have to find Sam!"

"Don't you think it would be wise to put some shoes on first?" John jerked his chin to indicate Dean's bare feet, then reached over to shake Bobby. "Hey wake up! Sam's disappeared!"

Bobby nearly fell off the pull-out. "What? Shit! Where the hell are my shoes?" He stumbled over to the front cabin as Dean and John got ready. Various thunks and clicks indicated that the Winchesters were arming themselves.

A quick nod from Bobby and the three of them set out after Sam.

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He crept closer to the boy though he quickly realised that the kid was in a world of his own. Sleep walking maybe? He shrugged. Why should he care?

On the approach he sped up his movements and soon had his knife at the boy's throat, one arm in a cruel grip round his waist, holding him firm. The kid didn't struggle, just stayed still, his own arms hanging limply down by his sides.

"Not putting up a fight huh? Shame. I was looking forward to getting some practice before I killed your brother." He muttered into Sam's ear. "Then your daddy, now _he's_ gonna be a challenge." He frowned when he still got no response. Sighing a little in disappointment, he readied himself to...

...faint laughter on the breeze, which turned his spine to ice, and he whirled round to face it, dragging Sam with him. Nothing.

"What the..."

A growl of anger.

_Let him gooooo..._

"Huh?" A purposeful snap of a twig underfoot and three men appeared from the darkness of the trees.

A set of angry green eyes pinned him in place. "Let my brother go right now you_ sonofabitch!_

He grinned. "This is more like it. Thought it was too easy."

Dean raised his gun. "Let him go!" He repeated the command, noting his little brother's glazed eyes. Sam was barely conscious it seemed, and hung in the stranger's embrace.

"Dean." John growled a warning and indicated that Dean should lower his gun. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonise the guy holding a blade tightly to Sam's throat, and as he watched a small trickle of blood was already soaking the collar of Sam's shirt. Stepping forward, hands held out in a calming gesture, John began to bargain for his son's life. "Take me instead but let Sam go."

Bobby narrowed his eyes when the stranger let loose a soft chuckle then clutched Sam more tightly to him, using the kid as a human shield.

"No deal. Marco wants you _all_ dead."

John felt his heart rate quicken but on seeing the look on Dean's face, fought for calm. "Fine. Kill Sam." He replied shortly. "But you won't last a second longer than it takes for Dean here to squeeze the trigger. But he won't kill you outright ya know? He'd make you suffer first. See, my eldest son has one hell of a temper, 'specially when someone's threatening his brother's life. But if Sam were already dead..."

John let that sink in. He knew he was playing a dangerous game but they'd reached an impasse. The stranger looked at him doubtfully then turned his head to stare at Dean, noticing for the first time that Dean had moved round to the left, Bobby to the right, taking some of the emphasis off John. He was gradually being surrounded.

The stranger swallowed heavily when he saw the anger and violence in Dean's eyes. He knew he was running out of options and backed away taking Sam with him. The trees provided much needed cover and he prepared to sink the blade into the soft young skin, planning to throw the kid to the ground and duck into the trees, and let the darkness swallow him.

It didn't turn out that way, much to his surprise. Someone or rather _something_ grabbed the hand holding the knife and jerked it away from Sam's throat. Sam was ripped out of his arms by an unseen force and the stranger felt something fastened round his throat, choking him.

Panic reduced him to a snivelling mess and he gasped. "Help me! What the hell's happening? Please..." his cry for help was cut off as he was jerked off his feet and dragged through the trees. He could see the men following his trail, eyes cold with hate.

Dean already had Sam in his arms muttering softly to him, trying to rouse his brother, not once looking up as his father and Bobby disappeared after the squirming bastard.

John and Bobby carried on stalking the assassin, watching his struggles dispassionately. They both knew what was coming and had no intention of stopping it.

_You tried to kill him, kill my sweet boy..._

The assassin heard the soft whispering voice and it heightened his fear as the pressure on his throat increased with a sudden jerk, and he found himself hoisted into the air.

John and Bobby studied him in silence, watching as the rope was slung over a high branch, and the struggling form hauled up.

"Please..." he rasped out, legs kicking, hands scrabbling at his throat, desperate for air.

_You tried to kill him...YOU WILL PAY!_

John didn't even wince when it happened. When the pale, dark haired woman appeared by the now slowly swinging body, blood dripping and splashing on the fallen pinecones beneath, he just nodded to her. She bowed her head respectfully, and for the last time faded into the night.

They didn't even bother to cut him down, just left him there. A silent warning to whoever followed.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Once again John found himself watching his sons as the RV hit the road. If anything Dean looked even more exhausted, but at least he was finally asleep. Sam hadn't woken up yet, and John was certain the two would sleep the rest of the night away. He turned his attention to Bobby, who was fiercely concentrating on the road ahead.

"You think she's at rest now?"

John thought for a moment. "Yeah. I don't think she'll be back. I guess she finally figured out the truth."

This was a result of a long, quiet conversation while the boys slept. Bobby had filled John in on the local legend of the murdered witch. It wasn't all that comforting, that she'd fixated on Sam as her lost son, but it _had_ saved his life and that was all they cared about.

Bobby spoke again. "What were the chances huh? That the guy might have once been the warlock?"

"Pretty slim I guess. Hell of a coincidence, in fact." Both were both certain. There was no such thing as coincidence in their line of work, but there was such as thing as luck. Very _bad _luck in the case of Sam's assailant, it seemed.

Silence reigned throughout the RV for a while, though it was anything but peaceful. John knew it would be a while before he could forget the sights or the noises; his youngest son silent with a blade at his throat, and the desperate anger in Dean's eyes, the heat in his words.

But what would stay with him forever was the sound of the assassin's own knife as it cut through his skin, blood pouring thickly from the gash, the final strangled gasps of pain, the rip of flesh, and finally the intestines as they slithered out of his stomach cavity and fell to the ground with an indecent _plop._

John stared hard at the road ahead.

"I'm not sorry. Never will be." God knew how many others had fallen victim to the assassin. He vaguely heard Bobby sigh in agreement.

"Me neither."

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"Stupid sonofabitch!" Marco snarled and paced, barely glancing up at the hollowed out man, still hanging from the tree. "I told him to wait for back up!"

Not that he cared. If the guy was stupid enough to get caught by the Winchesters then he deserved everything he got for his troubles. No. What had Marco seething in anger was the outright insult. They hadn't even bothered to hide the car, leaving it out on the grass verge in full sight of the road. No attempt had been made to clear this mess up. And now the RV was long gone, the Winchesters with it, and they had no leads. All they had was the licence plate number which he was pretty damned sure would disappear off the radar first chance they got.

The truth was Marco was scared. Even in his long murderous career he'd never seen anything so chilling, so bloodthirsty. He decided to use it.

Marco turned to his men, ignoring the lifeless body of the hired assassin. "Keep searching!" He snapped. "And if you find them and go after them without consulting me, I swear to God I'll make sure this guy looks like a Turkish butcher's store front by the time I've finished with you!!"

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_**Author's notes;**_

So, John and Bobby allowed a spirit to eviscerate the assassin from the gas station. Rather naughty for a hunter to deliberately let a human die, but in their shoes I'd have done the same. In fact I'm fairly certain that if Dean had been present, rather than tending to Sam, he'd have cheered her on with a ticker tape parade!

And there was much blood...But the theme in this fic so far seems to have the supernatural siding with our boys against Marco so that's gotta be worth it!

Hope you enjoyed it and it was graphic enough for you.

Sorry it's taken a while to update this story. It took more thinking about than I'm used to!

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	14. Chapter 14

**In The Arms Of Love Chapter 14**

John had taken over the driving again so Bobby could rest, and he kept throwing stern glances at the side mirrors. His body tensed every time a car passed by which wasn't often given the ungodly hour. If John was honest he was permanently tense these days; it had been a hell of a week with one crisis after another, especially for his sons.

Since leaving the forest, and a somewhat mutilated assassin, Bobby and the Winchesters hadn't really stopped for long, except to steal a new set of plates for the RV. The incident with the ghost and Marco's hired gun had left them all shaken, but that was days ago. They were constantly on the move, taking turns with the driving, never leaving the road with the exception of stopping to top up the water tank, food supplies and re-fuel, and that was made with considerable reluctance. It had been a unanimous decision to keep going until they reached the safe haven in Montana, but as they climbed higher above sea level and the temperature began to drop, John was reminded of the new winter coats he'd planned to buy for his sons before the explosion at the hotel, and _Christ why did that seem like months ago?_

One of the times they stopped for gas Dean had remarked he could already smell snow in the air and John realised he was right. The fresh mountain air combined with the heady fragrance of pine was bracing but cold. Sam, who had been somewhat subdued since being held hostage with a knife at his throat, stared longingly through a crack in the curtains. He ached to go outside, having been cooped up in the RV for days on end. Dean kept a close eye on him, worried that Sam was withdrawing into his shell. His kid brother had barely spoken since they left the forests except to admit that he had little recollection of that night. The only reminder he really had was the thick bandage at the base of his throat where he'd been nicked by the blade, but even then he only had a vague memory of it. Sam had spoken of a soft voice calling to him, telling him she needed him but the rest was just a blank. It was frustrating to say the least because Sam refused to talk much about it, leaving Dean feeling just as helpless as he had when this whole thing started.

"Sam?" Sam turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dean was watching him with a good deal of concern. "You want some hot chocolate kiddo? I picked up some marshmallows at that last gas station."

Sam saw the hope on his brother's face and knew he was only trying to help. Truth be told, Dean had been his rock for most if not all his life, and without him Sam honestly didn't know how he would have survived this last...week? Two weeks? He'd lost track of time. Dean was worrying himself sick about Sam, and that was unacceptable.

So Sam made a silent promise to Dean, a promise to make an effort, to smile more, mope less and generally let his brother in. Looking out for Sam was what made Dean tick, and being denied his job was slowly killing him inside.

So knowing all that, seeing it on Dean's face, the dark shadows under his eyes, Sam for the first time in days smiled and nodded.

"I-I'd lo...love some." The smile became more genuine when Dean's face spit into a huge grin and his hand travelled up from Sam's arm to rest on the back of his neck.

Dean rested his forehead on Sam's for a brief second, his eyes closed in relief as if to say _welcome back Sammy_, then pulled away. With the chick flick moment officially over, he started pulling marshmallows and chocolate packets out of the cupboards, and Sam rested his folded arms on the counter watching his brother's antics, the two of them cracking jokes and making small talk.

In the middle of another of his filthy jokes, Dean stopped and glanced at the road ahead when he felt the RV slow then finally stop. He raised his eyebrows at Sam's questioning gaze and carried on with the hot drink preparations until their father spoke up from the cab.

"Bobby's gonna get you boys some warm clothes and footwear so make sure you give him your measurements ok?"

"Yes sir!" Dean called back, then briefly filled his brother in on the latest plan as he poured hot milk into four mugs and added the marshmallows. "Here ya go Sammy." He handed over the largest mug and grinned affectionately at the look of pure pleasure on Sam's face as he breathed in the chocolaty steam.

"Thanks Dean." His smile slipped a little as did his gaze. "S..sorry. F...for bein' such a m...moody b...bitch."

Dean's head shot up in surprise, watching as Sam shifted from foot to foot, shoulders slumped in shame. "Sam, you've nothin' to be sorry for. You didn't do anythin' wrong ok?" He leant back against the sink and folded his arms, a deep frown forming. "Seriously dude, you've got to stop with these guilt trips. You didn't ask for any of this to happen to you, to _us_, and of course it's gonna freak you out, I get that. In fact I'd be worried if you were acting like Mary Fucking Sunshine, pretending nothin's happened." Dean smiled warmly. "Ok now? Lecture over. Now drink up and I'll talk to Bobby about the clothes."

Sam felt his eyes burn with tears at the sheer kindness on his older brother's face. Sure he always knew Dean loved him, had shown him in his own subtle ways over the years. Usually by light hearted teasing but sometimes by Big Brother Protectiveness, such as when Sam came home from school one afternoon sporting a black eye. Dean had handed him some pain killers, a glass of water, an ice pack then steered him carefully to the living room sofa.

Once Sam was settled Dean stared hard at the rapidly swelling bruise before beginning the interrogation. Sam had resisted at first, not wanting to make his situation at school any worse but Dean was the Master of Wheedling when it came to his little brother, and soon headed out the front door with an angry scowl and a dangerous glint in his green eyes. When he returned a few hours later nothing was said, though Sam could clearly see Dean's bruised and bloodied knuckles. From that day on Sam was left alone, the school bullies setting their vicious sights on some other poor bastard, and when Sam accidentally bumped into one of them in the hallway one morning the kid had muttered an apology and moved on, Sam staring at his retreating back in disbelief.

But lately Dean's protectiveness had carried an almost desperate edge that even Sam had noticed. Sam got the feeling he was missing something, that his family hadn't told him everything about the last few weeks. He really didn't want to think about it right now because he had enough to deal with, and if his father and brother were keeping something from him then he had to trust that they had good reason. Unfortunately, Sam's curious and fiercely independent nature often got in the way of such mature reasoning, and he found his need to know growing stronger. But along with that need came something else: the nasty feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't going to like it.

He felt eyes on him and it broke him out of his quiet musings. Sam turned just as Dean made his way back to the small kitchenette, a triumphant grin on his face.

Sam frowned. "What?"

Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "You'll see."

"Oh c..come on Dean! Tell me Pl...please?"

"Nope. It's a surprise so quit asking or I'll withdraw it." Dean folded his arms smugly when Sam's mouth shut with a snap. "Now go sit down and watch some TV and I'll get lunch ready."

After a few minutes of watching his brother, Sam felt guilty again.

"I c...can help you m...make lunch Dean." Sam offered softly, wishing his brother would get some proper rest and look after himself for a change.

Dean put down the knife he was using to slice some bread and stared at Sam. "I know you can kiddo, but there's no room in this shoe box they call a kitchen. And besides," he grinned again. "It's your turn for the washing up, bitch!"

Sam shook his head, returning the grin. "Jerk-off!"

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With the RV parked up behind a dense patch of pines, John was scouting the area, looking for signs of trouble. He kept a close eye on the road and the surrounding landscape even when Bobby approached him. John refused to make the same mistake twice.

"Dean gave me their sizes, amongst other things so I may as well head off now." As well as the clothing measurements Bobby also carried another scrap of paper that had the _real _important orders, at least that was the way Dean saw it. He'd chuckled a little at the glow that lit the kid's face when he handed it over, and the mischievous grin that accompanied it. "Anything you need?"

Casting a brief smile at his old friend and continuing his careful watch, John replied "Nah. I think Dean has it covered. Oh, there is one thing though; an extra order of sweet and sour sauce." His stomach growled. "For dunking the prawn crackers."

When John grinned boyishly Bobby chuckled and shook his head. John had obviously guessed at Dean's request for Chinese takeout; the restaurant resided by the Out Door Clothing Store a couple hundred yards back on the road and even with the speed the RV was travelling everyone had sniffed the air appreciatively at the aromas and spices that briefly filled the cab. Dean, John and Bobby had seen Sam's face light up with longing and that in turn had spurred Dean into pulling Bobby aside, quickly writing up a takeout order. It would be the first time they'd had Chinese food in a while, having feasted mainly on canned produce since they'd hit the road. John hadn't objected to the small delay since they all deserved a little something special, and if it helped cheer his boys up then that was fine by him.

Bobby chuckled again and trudged off back down the road, placed the order at the restaurant then headed into the clothing store.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam was dozing in front of the TV when Dean slipped out to speak with his father. John was excellent at camouflage and concealment but he'd taught his sons well, and Dean soon found him.

"Dad, can we talk?"

John frowned at the expression on Dean's face and nodded. "Sure son. What's bothering ya?"

Dean was crouched next to his father, chewing on his bottom lip worriedly. "Sam still doesn't remember much about that night in the forest."

John shifted a little to get more comfortable. "Ok. You think he'll recall it at some point?"

Dean nodded miserably. "Yeah, but that's not the problem. He's been through so much, Dad. What..." he swallowed hard, "what if he, ya know, figures out about the car? I mean, he already suspects we're holding something back and he's not stupid. I'm just scared what it could do to him."

"The fact those bastards buried him alive in the Impala?" At Dean's nod John sighed. "I don't know son. But if he does remember then we'll help him deal with it..." At the same time as John's eyes widened at something over Dean's shoulder, a soft frightened voice reached their ears.

"I...is it true?" Sam gulped fearfully, and Dean closed his eyes for a second in despair. Shit! His little brother must have woken up; realised Dean was gone and went looking for him, only to stumble upon his father and brother talking about him. _Behind his back._

Sam had obviously read John's lips and Dean, on turning to face him, was dismayed to see the near panic on his brother's face.

"Well?" Sam demanded, scared eyes searching his family for the truth. "W...was I? I m...mean d...did they b...b...bury me alive?"

Dean and John leapt to their feet and Sam shrank back.

"Did they?" He yelled.

"Sammy, kiddo..." John held his hands out trying to placate his frightened son, "It's gonna be ok. You didn't need to know son, we were just trying to protect you. We'll help you through it..."

"No." Sam whispered, his eyes growing distant as he gradually disconnected. Weird memories assaulted him, draining him...

_...lying in the trunk, overheating, tied up so tightly he could barely move, the lid of the trunk slamming down one final time...thirsty, scared, alone..._

_...the strange thumping and vibration running through the car and his body, not knowing what was happening..._

And now it all fitted together; he'd had to lie helplessly locked in the trunk as they poured tonnes of sand on top of him. Sam backed away from his family in terror, realising _this_ was what they'd been hiding from him.

_...burying him, leaving him to suffocate and rot..._

"Oh God..." And Sam was running.

He didn't know where he was going only that he had to get away, as his senses went into overload and he stumbled through the trees blindly, a deep seated nausea building inside, bile rising up, and panic invaded him anew.

He had to get out, get out, _get out..._claustrophobia rapidly taking hold, it felt like he was back in that damn trunk, crying out for help and no one listening.

Sam didn't realise he was in the middle of the road until a loud air horn blasted out, and he looked up dispassionately at the giant semi bearing down on him. It was so close that Sam could see the driver frantically waving at him, and someone tackled him at the very last second, pushing him out the way as the truck thundered by. Sam and his rescuer rolled over and over into the long grass on the other side of the road, finally coming to halt, Sam tucked tightly into someone's desperate and shivering embrace.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean stared down into Sam's dazed and glassy eyes, shaking him lightly, trying to get a response. "Talk to me, please Sam." He kept brushing Sam's hair back from his face, felt his father crouching down beside him, and heard him gently calling to Sam.

His little brother was breathing too fast and hard, his eyes rolling wildly in their sockets, and Dean could see his face growing pale.

"Sammy calm down little dude. Slow, even breaths." But Sam wasn't responding, already locked deeply in a waking nightmare, and Dean was on the verge of losing it.

John quickly took charge and pulled Dean away. He gently lifted Sam up, rubbing his back and pushing his head between his knees. "Dean, he'll be ok. It just came as a shock but he'll be ok." _I sure hope I'm right about that._

Dean hadn't fully let go of his brother, still clutching his arms and praying this wasn't the final straw. He met his father's gaze and saw the same anxiety nestled in his eyes.

"Dad, what can we do for him?"

John honestly had no idea. Training had taught him that talking calmly to a sufferer of severe trauma often helped to temporarily push solid ground back beneath their feet, but Sam couldn't hear. Not knowing what else to do, he gently grasped Sam's jaw and lifted his face.

"Let him see you Dean. It's the only link he has now, let him see your face, your lips move, and _keep talking to him_."

Dean nodded and took over from his father. He kept his face in Sam's line of sight, talking, moving his mouth carefully until Sam's breathing evened out. Dean had no idea if Sam could understand him but at least his brother no longer seemed on the verge of passing out.

Then he slipped an arm under Sam's knees, the other round his back and hoisted him up, John rising with them. The three of them kept a slow steady pace back to the RV, Dean keeping up a constant chatter but Sam's eyes seemed vacant. Once or twice they had to stop when Sam vomited and Dean wiped his mouth gently, promising himself and Sam that he wouldn't use it as ammo at a later date, partly because it was too funny that he'd thrown up over their father. John had rolled his eyes at that and even chuckled lightly, especially when Sam began to stir, awareness slowly creeping back.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It took time but they eventually got Sam settled, and Dean watched him constantly, nervously, as he tucked his little brother back in bed, smoothing the covers down gently.

"Get some sleep Sammy. I'll be right here, I promise." And Dean felt utter despair that his little brother, although making his way back, still looked so lost. He curled up miserably on the bed beside Sam, wishing like hell he hadn't brought the subject up. He heard mutterings outside the RV as John explained things to Bobby, and wondered who was really to blame for this.

Because it sure felt like it was his fault.

_Should've kept my mouth shut._

He glanced over as both John and Bobby entered the RV. Bobby headed for the kitchenette, laying various shopping bags on the counter, the Chinese food going straight in the cooler for re-heating later, but managed a friendly wink at Dean. His father slid behind the steering wheel and without another word started the RV, pausing for a moment to offer Dean a reassuring smile before swinging the wide wheel round, the vehicle heading back for the road.

They didn't stop again until the next day.

Dean couldn't sleep and chose to watch over Sam, hoping like hell that the bad dreams wouldn't re-emerge. But as the journey wore on, Dean realised that Sam seemed able to sleep much better when they were on the road, and he wondered if it was because the soft, rocking motion soothed him or if it was the thought of putting as many miles between him and Marco as possible. Somehow he reckoned it was a combination of the two.

By the time morning once again rolled around, Dean had switched on the TV and was alternating between eyeing Wile E. Coyote's endless pursuit of Roadrunner, and keeping his brother grounded. In the end he gave up on TV when Sam began crying out and thrashing violently in his sleep, eventually waking up, clinging to Dean and staring around him in wide eyed fear.

Waiting until Sam got his breath back and calmed down a little, Dean shifted him round so he could see his face better, rubbing his back and watching as the panic in his brother's eyes gradually faded. It was becoming a familiar routine and when the clock struck midday, Dean felt that enough was enough.

"Sam, I think you need to talk about it." Although Dean was insistent, not giving his brother a chance to back out, his words were soft and his eyes were filled with sympathy and concern.

His brother appeared to think for a moment, before slowly nodding. After a deep breath, gathering his composure, Sam started to explain.

"I dreamt I woke up in a coffin. I started panicking and tearing through the fabric lining, then scratching at the lid." Sam raised his hands, examining his fingernails with some surprise. "I almost expected them to be torn to shreds like they were in my dream. My nails caught in the grain of the wood and my hands were bleeding from all the splinters. It seemed so real. I couldn't get out. Dean..." Sam turned his gaze on his older sibling, seeking answers. "When I was in the trunk...they weren't gonna let me go, were they? No matter what you and Dad did."

Dean thought about denying it but that really wouldn't have been fair to Sam, who was already struggling to make some sort of sense of all this. "No kiddo." He replied sadly. "But we wouldn't stop searching for you; we wouldn't have left you out there."

"I don't understand." Sam seemed so much younger than his fourteen years as he stared up at Dean. "Why? How could they have so little regard for human life? I never did anything to them."

"I wish I knew Sammy," replied Dean, with a deep sigh. "I sure wish I knew."

Sam evetually managed to sleep for another hour, snuggled close to his brother, before hunger pangs got the better of him. He stayed silent but _felt_ Dean's grin directed on him when his stomach grumbled loudly, opened his eyes and cast a sheepish smile at his big brother.

"Hungry Sammy?" At Sam's eager nod, Dean's grin broadened. "Well, I guess it's time for that surprise huh? You get the plates ready, I'll do the rest." To the front of the cab he yelled out "I'm gettin' some grub ready! You guys want anything?"

The RV immediately slowed and pulled over into a picnic area, John and Bobby deciding that now was as good a time as any, and if they left the boys to it then all the takeout food would soon be gone in seconds. Honestly, John could swear his boys would put a swarm of locusts to shame.

Sam's eyes widened with hunger when he smelt the Chinese food reheating and smiled at his older brother with pure pleasure. It was that smile that set Dean's mind at rest; he was more than pleased that Sam's appetite hadn't been affected and that the youngster was virtually quivering in anticipation of eating his favourite food.

"Ok, here we go and no hogging the prawn crackers _Dad!_"

John was already stuffing two into his mouth and grinning smugly all at the same time. It wasn't a pretty sight and his sons both rolled their eyes in disgust. Bobby just shrugged, leaned over and snagged the container of crispy chilli beef, whilst Sam helped himself to the duck in hoi sin sauce and a large pile of special fried rice.

"Well boys, the good news is that we're only about two days away." John sat back, digging into a plate of lemon chicken. "Then we can relax and take it easy for a while."

Sam stopped chewing and dropped his fork, the loud clatter echoing round the cab.

"Dad?" Beseeching young eyes stared up at John. "C...could we just k...keep on going?"

John frowned and glanced questioningly at Dean who shook his head a little.

Dean turned to face Sam and touched his shoulder to get his attention. "We can't keep on runnin' Sam. And where we're heading? There's a doctor that might be able to help you. We'll be safe there, Dr Mac promised us."

"But Marco's managed to catch up with us at every turn, right?" Sam's eyes filled with angry tears as his gaze swept over John and Bobby. "What makes you think we'll be safe there? Huh? Can you make any guarantees?"

He was starting to sound almost hysterical, and Dean wrapped an arm round Sam, tightening his hold when Sam tried to shrug him off.

"Sammy...hey!" Dean forcibly turned Sam's head towards him. "There are no guarantees, but we're here to protect you ok? That bastard won't get his hands on you again."

Sam stared at him. "I'm scared. He's human and as far as I know there aint no wards or rituals that can keep him out, or stop him finding us."

The RV went silent at that; no one had much to say in response.

Because they all knew Sam was right.

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It was yet _another_ long night of watching his sons sleep, albeit an uneasy one. Several times John dozed off, woken minutes later by Sam's cries followed by Dean comforting him. But all the while his mind was ticking over, considering Sam's earlier words, coming up with plans only to nix them, occasionally hashing it out with Bobby. In spite of the turmoil and rage, the worry and fatigue, an idea was slowly forming.

Dean was vaguely aware of some brief muttering from the front of the RV and knew what was going on, but he was just too tired to listen in. Instead he trusted that his father and Bobby would let him in on anything they had planned, slid back down in the bed next to his brother, and let sleep take him away.

A few hours later and John was taking another turn behind the wheel.

"What dya think?" he muttered gruffly, feeling less than enthusiastic.

Bobby scrubbed a tired hand over his face and nodded. "Well, it aint the best, but then we don't seem to have a whole lot of other options." Rolling his neck to work out the aches and pains, Bobby stared back at the sleeping boys. "Ok. Let's do it."

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The RV rolled forward up the steady incline. It was little less than a muddy track, sludge and snow causing the wheels to slip occasionally, and conifers lined the route like sentinels. It seemed a pretty bleak place, not much to look at beyond the thick pines, and Sam stared out through the window, filled with apprehension.

He didn't like this plan. Any of it. He didn't like the idea of his family splitting up. Surely they'd be stronger together instead of going their separate ways, and a small part of him felt as though he were being abandoned. And he knew that was stupid, because he understood why it had to be done, but the thought of his Dad and Bobby running round the country acting as a decoy in the RV whilst Sam and Dean recuperated in the middle of nowhere...

Sam sniffed miserably. The thought of losing his father and Bobby was terrifying, but at least Dean would be with him, all the way through whatever therapy he'd have to endure.

He gasped and moved closer to the window, hands splayed out on the glass as the track widened and became a forecourt. A large sprawling house came into view, with tall chimneys and a large front door set up on a veranda. It was a strange mix of French, English and American style, and Sam found that he rather liked it.

But what really clinched the deal for him, what really made him smile, was the _herd_ of dogs that ran towards the RV, appearing to bark at the top of their doggy voices. Sam felt a tinge of sadness that he couldn't hear them, but the wagging tails and the big soppy grins with large tongues lolling from their chops more than made up for it. As the RV made a smooth circle and came to a halt, Sam had already catalogued the seemingly vast number of breeds. There were at least two young black Labradors, three Gold Retrievers, one of which was little more than a puppy, a German shepherd, a Border Collie, an elderly looking Rottweiler, a seemingly nutty liver and white Springer Spaniel, and at least three dogs of unidentifiable heritage, though Sam could swear they had Red Cloud Kelpie in their blood given the stocky, pointy eared appearance and handsome crimson colouring. But the one that made him laugh out loud was the gargantuan jet black Newfoundland that immediately pounced on Dean as soon as he left the RV, knocking him to the ground with a deep _**WOOF!**_ Which made the gound shake. The dog proceeded to give his brother's face and neck a long wash with his huge pink tongue. Whilst Dean squirmed and writhed on the cold, wet ground, cursing and laughing alternately.

Sam stepped out of the RV, gently fighting off wagging tails and long wet tongues, though he did notice how gently he was being treated, especially by the half-grown Retriever pup who seemed to stared up at him with big soulful eyes. It struck him that these dogs all instinctively knew he was injured, knew they couldn't be too rough in their affection, and the rush of warmth that gave him...

"Hey there boy." Sam didn't even notice that he was no longer stuttering. He reached down to gently stroke the pup's ears, giving him a good scratch under the chin. The young pup started shaking with pleasure, whining softly and rubbing his upper body against Sam's legs, his soft eyes filled with love for the boy he'd only just met. Oh yeah. Sam had made a friend already, and as he moved away the fur ball stayed with him. In fact, the young dog refused to leave Sam's side, kept his small warm body hugged close to Sam's legs, almost tripping him up.

Sam glanced at Dean who was watching him with a mysterious smile whilst half-heartedly wrestling with the Newfoundland. Dean would later learn to his shock that the damn thing was also just a puppy, and still had some growing to do.

Bobby and John, tough, hardened hunters, both ex-military men, were reduced to the consistency of melted butter by the black labs, who were fawning over them as though they'd just met up with their best friends after a long absence. John shrugged and cast a mock-guilty glance at Bobby before giving in to the black lab's beseechingly silent request to have her tummy rubbed. She predictably squirmed in delight.

A loud _squawking_ started up and Sam glanced over to the opposite corner of the yard to find an angry looking goose glaring at the newcomers. It had to be the largest bird he'd ever seen, and Sam felt more than a little intimidated as the thing seemed to track him, waddling slowly forward, belting out the most appalling noise, wings spread wide. The pup at Sam's side sprang into action in front of his new charge, legs spread apart in defence stance, noble head held high, teeth bared, hackles raised, and a growl started low in his throat, which soon rose to a threatening snarl. Whenever Sam tried moving to either side, the pup seemed to know and moved accordingly. He had to admit that in spite of the gangly appearance, the young dog was a fine example of the Gun Dog breed.

"Uh, Dad?" Dean, having managed to extricate himself from the excited Newfoundland, stared worriedly at the goose, wondering how the hell things had gone so badly wrong that the Winchesters were now afraid of a Christmas dinner.

"_**NAPoleON!"**_ and everyone turned to stare at the small woman with the loud French accent who came stalking down the veranda steps, glaring menacingly at the goose. The evident _Napoleon_ amazingly seemed to cringe away, but with an attitude that suggested it would be back later with reinforcements. "You be nice! Or I turn you into _main course!_" She hissed, frowning fiercely at the goose. "I have a nice La Corbiere rouge with your name all over it you stupid great _duck_!"

The _duck_ in question appeared to take offence at this, or maybe the thought of being cooked in a _cheap_ red wine, and turned its back, waddling out of the yard, occasionally glancing over at the newcomers with what looked like a childish, petulant scowl.

Sam had to grin. He'd seen that look before, usually on his brother when the cookie jar had been hidden.

He turned his attention back to small, loud woman. She was plump but pretty with shoulder length blond hair and kindly blue eyes. Which seemed to fix on his father.

"You must be John." She swept forward and embraced a surprised John in a vibrant hug, kissing both his cheeks. "My father told me so _much_ about you." With her voice softened her accent seemed to lighten, but her smile saddened. "He missed you when you went away." The French lilt washed over Bobby and the Winchesters like a sweet summer breeze.

A cheeky grin emerged as the lady spoke again. "And I think that my mama...she had a liking for you. N'cest pas?" She winked. "I can certainly see why!"

Sam, Dean and Bobby noticed that John was still staring at her, eyes narrowed.

"My God. You _do_ look just like her. Uh...your mom...I mean..." John, to the amazement of his family, was stuttering like a school kid. But before any of them had the chance to say anything, Nicole Le Monnier released her grip on John and stared in delight at his two boys.

"And you two must be John's sons, no?" And Dean felt his heart melt a little when her gaze alighted on him. "Dean. You _must_ be. Oh those eyes..._c'est beau mon cheri_! The hearts you will break!"

Dean felt a part of him melt even further on hearing that sweet, husky voice, but shifted subtly as another part of him..._rose to the occasion._ Fortunately, Nicole soon turned her attention to Bobby, and Dean sighed inwardly with relief, and a little regret.

"Ahh...Bobby Singer." Nicole tilted her head to one side, then spoke so softly that John and Dean couldn't hear, but Sam could read her lips and it confused him. "So much pain in your heart that you don't believe you'll ever be at peace again." She took his hand and smiled sadly. "But you will, though it will be a battle hard fought. Believe it or not, you've already made a start just by being here with this family." She leaned forward and laid a gentle kiss on each cheek.

Before Bobby could blink she'd already moved over to Sam, and now the men fell silent, desperate to hear what she had to say.

"Samuel Winchester, though..." She inclined her head to the sky for a second "you prefer to be called Sam. You can call me Nick." _Nick_ turned her head back to him and smiled warmly.

Sam blinked. "What?"

She shrugged in that well known French way. "I _hate _to be called Nicki, sounds childish. And _Nicole_ sounds so formal, like _Dr Le Monnier_. I only reserve those titles for more formal occasions." Another casual _French_ shrug. "Or people I just don't like uh?" She smiled at him conspiratorially, waggling her cute eyebrows.

Sam found himself smiling back. He couldn't help it, and a glance at the rest of his clan told him that they felt the same way.

A wet nose nudged its way into his hand and Sam smiled down at the pup. "What's his name?" He asked softly as his hand stroked the soft silken ears, and felt a gentle touch to his arm. He still forgot sometimes...

Nick grinned when Sam's gaze met hers. "I haven't named him yet. I was waiting for the right person to come along." With a sly wink she added with an equally sly lilt to her voice, "I think that's you."

"Really? You want me to name him?" Sam was flabbergasted and had no idea what to make of all this. This wasn't his dog, could never be. Yet...and yet...

The pup stared up at him and the words came plainly into Sam's mind.

_You never really own a dog, the dog owns you. The only thing you really get to decide is his name._

He crouched down and wrapped an arm around the young dog. "How do you feel about Kerak?" The pup seemed to wonder about it, then licked Sam's nose with approval.

Nick crouched down, an eyebrow raised. "Suits him. Kerak, as in the fort during the crusades in the Middle East?" When Sam nodded she thought for a moment. "Yes. Kerak, protector of the pilgrim roads. And your family are certainly pilgrims of sorts."

Sam smiled shyly. "I'm glad you like it."

And that seemed to be the end of the interrogation where Sam was concerned.

As far as Nick was concerned, they had plenty of time. So she offered her hand to Sam.

"Would you care to escort a lady to dinner?"

Sam felt a little flustered. "Uh...shouldn't we wash up first? I mean, we're a little worse for wear."

Nick glanced around at them with a small frown. "No. That can wait. You need to sit down and eat first. There are many bathrooms in this house and you can all clean up later."

And this time _Sam_ shyly offered his arm, and _escorted the lady to dinner._

He couldn't stop grinning.

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And what a feast it was.

Roast potatoes in Cajun spices with a minted mayonnaise dip for starters, grilled honey glazed duck breasts in an orange sauce, followed by Sea Bass fillets slow baked in lime and coriander. It was all too delicious and all too much.

That was until the desert arrived.

Dean's eyes boggled.

Velvet mint chocolate torte served with a black cherry jus. Dean had no idea what a 'jus' was but he pretty much decided that it was now top of his list of most favourite deserts.

It came as a surprised to his family that he even made it this far without asking for a burger and fries.

The meal itself was slow and relaxed, full of laughter, ranging from high and French on Nick's part, to low a masculine rumble from John and Bobby. Wine was poured and flowed freely, even Sam being allowed some with water, as was considered tradition in French society, and eventually they all ended up outside the vast house, singing and laughing round a small fire that Nick had set up nearby. Dean and Sam had one of the best nights of their lives, and never felt so at home. Nick wasn't even trying to act like a mom to them, more like a good friend or distant cousin, and Dean soon got over his attraction to her, realising that this woman could really help Sam...and in spite of it, could help _him._

Sam had the best feeling about all this, and the relaxed expression on Dean's face set his mind and heart at rest. They could be happy here; he had no doubt about that. But his Father and Bobby were leaving tomorrow, and the fear that settled in the pit of his stomach kept on building.

__

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"Dad?" In spite of all he said to tell himself the night before, Sam had to try.

John turned and slowly grasped his youngest son's arms gently. "I know what you're going to say, but we'll be fine Sam."

Kerak glanced from one Winchester to the other, already certain of his place, which was resting up against Sam's thigh, and on the occasion that he fell asleep, on Sam's stomach. He really was in doggy heaven when Dean was there too, because it meant that someone was stroking his ears _and _his tummy, and that. _Was. Just. Heaven_.

Though as much as the young dog adored Dean, he truly felt that he belonged to Sam. And right now he didn't like the anxiety his master was feeling. He whimpered softly.

"I know." Sam nodded miserably. "Please just...stay safe and come back soon?"

John smiled and wrapped Sam up in a tight hug. "I will, I promise." He whispered in his youngest son's ear. "I love you Sammy. Always have." And with that he abruptly turned away, striding towards the RV, Bobby already at the wheel.

John didn't look back but Sam and Dean, with Kerak waiting for them faithfully, stared as their father drove away.

"Dean? Will they be ok?"

Dean carried on staring long after the RV disappeared. "Yeah. 'Cause they will kiddo." He answered softly, though he wasn't sure how much he believed it. They were soon drawn away into a game with Kerak, who had already appointed himself as both boys protector.

__

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"Caleb? It's John. What you got?"

"_Oh he's already on your tail, I can promise you that. Those RV plates you sent me? Worked like a charm. He thinks you're on the other side of the country right about now. Good work boys!"_

John said his goodbyes then snapped the cell phone shut. He shared a silent worried glance with Bobby.

_For how long...?_

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"Please tell me you got _somethin'!"_

"We're working on it boss..."

"_That's not good enough!"_

"No, seriously. We got a lead on a Chinese takeout in Montana. My cousin owns the place and..."

"Then what the fuck you talkin' to me for? Get on it!" Marco shut the phone off, glowering. His contacts had already figured out that the plates had been changed, and that the Winchesters were heading into Montana. Someone had been using the RV plates to throw them off, but Marco wasn't that stupid.

_We're getting closer..._

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_**Author's notes:**_

I'm trying to make these chapters longer and now that I have most of my multi-chapter stories out the way, I'm pouring all my energies into this one; I do worry about just how sappy I'm making Dean. Would a teenage Dean get this bad? I don't know. I don't have much to go by; I'm the youngest in my family so I have no idea what it takes to be the protective oldest. I only really have an idea from Sam's perspective.

As for the dogs...all part of the story. And even if they weren't I'd make no apologies 'cos I just love dogs.

Many thanks for your reviews so far my darlin's.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	15. Chapter 15

**In The Arms Of Love Chapter 15**

Dean watched his little brother playing a game of catch with Kerac and smiled. His own canine companion, the Newfoundland, lay next to him panting softly with his head in Dean's lap. The big dog squirmed with pleasure as Dean absentmindedly scratched behind his ears.

"Ya know something Peppy?" Yes, the dog's name was taken after its playful and enthusiastic nature. Dean had been somewhat disturbed by it at first, having expected something more along the lines of 'Killer'. But staring down at the stupid grin stretched across the dog's broad face, long pink tongue lolling out, Dean had to admit that 'Peppy' was far more appropriate. "I think this is the first real vacation we've ever had."

Peppy responded with a soft deep _woof_ of agreement and a paw the size of a dinner plate pushed at Dean's chest, nearly knocking him off balance.

Now Dean was by no means a softy. When he took a girl out on a date he kept it romantic and above all _honest_ out of respect for the girl, but it never became anything more than that, knowing that sooner or later he'd be moving on. In his own way, Dean was quite the gentleman.

The only person he came close to being vaguely soft with was Sam, always watching out for him, holding him when the nightmares became too much. But this stupid great bear of a dog was breaking through some barriers, and as Peppy stared up him, happy brown eyes sparkling with unconditional love, Dean felt his heart melting a little. He'd never had a dog, never asked for one. And now he was wondering why.

Seeing Sam with Kerac made that question all the more prominent. The two dogs had bounded into their lives, asking nothing in return except love and attention. Dean had worried for the first few weeks that he and Sam would be driven apart by the canine interruption, but that hadn't been the case. If anything Sam and Dean had become closer, discovering their love of dogs, going for daily runs, grooming them, even playing hide and seek in the hay loft of the old barn next to the house. They spent some of the cold winter evenings lazing in the kitchen, the fireplace alive with crackling logs, Kerac and Peppy curled around them on the floor. Nick chatted on in her comforting French lilt, as she rolled pastry, sautéed potatoes, and marinated whatever happened to be on the menu that night. Just occasionally one of the other members of the huge doggy family would trot in and snuffle around on the floor for crumbs, or fix Nicolle with an intense hypnotic gaze until she caved and gave them a few titbits to snack on.

The last month had swept by them. Sam had grown taller by another inch, both boys were now sun bronzed from spending so much time outdoors in spite of the cold winter, and although Sam's hearing hadn't returned it was clear that Mother Nature was trying to compensate for his loss.

Sam's eyesight, always pretty impressive given how much time he had spent with his nose buried in a book, was now sharp as an eagle. But that wasn't all. Other senses were kicking into gear, and his young hunter instincts, once shy and virtually ignored, now seemed to jump up and down demanding attention. And they were never wrong. When the winter was on the cusp of spring, Nick had sent the boys out to hunt a deer, wanting fresh venison for the range of exciting dishes she insisted on trying out. Sam and Dean hadn't argued. After a lifetime of microwave meals, fast food and Lucky Charms, they were in culinary heaven. Even Dean's normally grotesque pallet had been tamed a little, and he could now enjoy some of the finest food he'd ever tasted.

It had been Sam that found the trail and tracked the deer. Given the still heavily falling snow, Dean, to this day, still had no idea how he found it. With his own eyes he couldn't see it, but Sam convinced him it was there. He later told Dean that his sense of smell had become heightened and he could detect the scent of the herd on the breeze. And so after a trek of several miles the brothers found the herd, their muzzles snuffling beneath the cold snow in search of food.

Sam couldn't bring himself to shoot so Dean took the lead, and the two of them dragged their prize, a scarred and elderly stag, back to the house. Not a word was said afterwards about Sam's reluctance because his brother understood. Sam would take down anything that threatened his family without hesitation, but he couldn't kill an innocent deer. It might have sounded hypocritical, seeing as he was prepared to eat the venison lasagne placed in front of him that night, but it really wasn't. And only Nick and Dean could understand why.

Dean thought about Nick. She hadn't done much in the way of therapy as far as he could tell; just let the boys relax and have fun, though they had helped out a bit round the farm. Perhaps that _was_ the therapy. Collecting eggs, cleaning out the hen house, milking the cows and mucking out the cow shed. It had been messy work but fun too, and neither boy was a stranger to hard graft, though Sam had been forced by Dean and Nick to take it easy until his ribs healed properly.

Dean felt her approach, then heard the soft rustle of denim as she sat beside him. She didn't say a word, just stroked Peppy's soft under-belly. Silence stretched out as the three of them watched Sam and Kerac at play.

Then he realised that she was waiting for _him _to come to _her_.

"He's never gonna hear again, is he?" He asked softly.

Nick didn't answer straight away, just carried on watching. She smiled as Sam laughed loudly at the retriever when Kerac became bored with the game and just rolled on his back in the mud.

"No. I'm sorry but the damage is permanent."

Dean sadly turned away. The tears that burned his eyes weren't for him but for his little brother, who would never again hear the birds sing as the sun rose in the early morning, never again hear Dean singing off key in the shower and berate him for it.

A gentle hand on his cheek pulled him back from his thoughts.

"It's not the end for Sam. It's only the beginning." Nick smiled softly at Dean's apparent confusion. "Surely you've noticed?"

"What do you mean?" He had an idea what she was talking about but needed some clarification. It was something that lurked in the back of his mind like a shadow.

"What he's lost can never really be replaced, but he's _healing._ Inside." Replied Nick. "Sam has opened up, been forced to. He can really _see_ now."

Dean sucked in a deep breath. "But he's so scared."

"Is he? I don't think so. And neither do you really." Nick stretched out an arm and pointed at Sam. "Communication comes in many forms. You see how Sam and Kerac interact?" She withdrew her arm. "Well, it's the same as with you and Peppy. You talk different languages, yet you _still understand each other_."

Dean blinked as realisation dawned.

Nick watched him and nodded slowly. "_Now_ you get it. You and Sam have a connection that most people would kill for. You feel each other's pain, and he understands you. Sam's not the only psychic in your family." She leaned in and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Sam's had to embrace it sooner, but you'll get there. It'll take time, _but you will get there mon cheri."_

Dean nearly spluttered at the word psychic. The idea was ridiculous! Maybe Sam carried such a skill, lying dormant all these years until it took the loss of one of the major senses to tip the balance and wake it up. That sounded right to Dean; his emo little brother had always been the more sensitive one, crying when Bambi's mother was shot or, in more recent years, when Leonardo Di Caprio croaked at the end of Romeo and Juliet. And surely _everyone_ knew what happened at the end of Romeo and Juliet. There were creatures living under several layers of mud at low tide that knew. Hell! Even _Dean_ knew. And yet Sam had still turned away with a suspicious snuffling noise when Clare Danes blew her brains out.

So yeah, it made sense that Sam was the budding Jedi Knight in the family, though Dean wouldn't have minded the telekinesis skills, especially when it came to cleaning whatever crappy motel room they often ended up staying in.

Seeing the expression on Dean's face, Nick threw back her head and laughed. "It's not as strange as you might think. You'll soon see, if you haven't already." She patted his knee, "now come on. Back to the house; it's time for lunch!"

Sam chose that moment to wander over, Kerac bouncing around his feet and occasionally jumping up and barking joyfully. The young Retriever, whose coat was almost as shaggy as his master's hair, had also grown in the last month and was not far off adult status, though the boys were fairly certain that it would be a while before the young dog started behaving like one. He still ran off with one of Dean's shoes at every given opportunity, often hiding it somewhere so obscure that even the brothers were quickly stumped. Last time it had turned up in the hen house, and if the chicken hadn't squawked so damn loudly at Kerac then it likely would've remained AWOL until Sam checked for eggs the next morning.

And Kerac could be seen _laughing_ at them from a safe distance as they plucked the egg-yolk covered sneaker from underneath one very distressed and pissed off hen. How the hell the damn dog had managed it Dean and Sam had no idea, and Kerac wasn't letting on. No one understood why he always went for Dean's shoes and not Sam's, nor why Peppy just sat by grinning happily, refusing to get involved.

Dean grinned up at his little brother. Sam was no longer the skinny, terrified kid he'd been a month ago; if anything he seemed happier than ever, the nightmares had become less frequent and the sparkle had come back into his eyes. Sure, he still asked about John and Bobby, who had been on the road for the entire month and unable to contact the boys as often as they'd liked, but it was with slightly less fear and worry as time went by and nothing seemed to happen. It appeared that Marco hadn't given up the search for the Winchesters but _had_ stepped it down. The weekly conversations on the phone assured Dean that he and his brother were safe for now, but that was only because John and Bobby, with a little help from Caleb had managed to keep Marco's goons off the scent.

In their first week on the farm, Nick had received word from a neighbour (Dean had snorted at that; the nearest neighbour being a little over ten miles away as straight as the crow flies) that someone had been hanging around the Chinese Restaurant and Outdoor Clothing store asking questions about passing tourists, RVs, and whether or not two teenage boys had been spotted. Since Bobby had bought Sam and Dean some new clothes on the journey up here, there was little reason to visit the store again. Nick made sure the boys never strayed outside the boundaries of her extensive land, always keeping them way too occupied to be curious about what lay beyond, though it was unlikely they would have wandered too far. Sam wasn't all that keen to venture out of the safety zone, and Dean refused to go anywhere without his brother in tow.

Dean had to shake himself from his thoughts.

"Kerac worn you out yet kiddo?"

Sam grinned back. "Naw. He's not like Peppy here; if Kerac wrestles me to the ground and sits on my back he doesn't crush me!" He was referring to the time Dean had tripped over Peppy's sprawling form, gone face down in the mud only to have a very concerned Newfoundland burying his nose in Dean's neck whilst virtually sitting on him.

"Yeah well Kerac doesn't weigh in at five thousand pounds!" Dean retorted with a mock scowl. "Here runt, help me up." He held out an arm and Sam grabbed at it laughing.

Dean in turn helped Nick to her feet and the French woman, facing the boys, whilst walking backwards and counting loudly on her fingers, reeled off the list of dishes for them to choose for their lunch. Sam opted for the Minestrone soup with French bread whilst Dean asked for the steak sandwich, relenting a little when Nick insisted on preparing a blue cheese salad to accompany it.

Dean was not a salad person, in fact it was considered a struggle trying to get him to eat the lettuce in a burger, but since living here with this doctor/chef/farmer/godknowswhatthehellelse he'd taken a bit of a liking to it, though he still preferred a large portion of fries on the side any day.

It started raining after lunch, which put pay to the boys' plans to go for a long hike with the dogs. They settled on a game of Black Jack instead, filling the kitchen with brotherly banter and half-hearted arguments. Amongst the good natured squabbling fresh plans were made for another day. Nick had no problem with them going off on their own, especially as they had 

the dogs with them. Peppy and Kerac, in spite of their sappy appearance, would defend _their_ boys to the death.

Loud thunder suddenly shook the old house and Sam jumped out of his seat, playing cards scattered over the table. Dean glanced out of the kitchen window, marvelling at a bright flash of lightening and also noting how grey and dark the early afternoon sky had grown.

"That sure crept up on us real fast!" He turned to his brother, whose eyes were wide with fear. "Take it easy Sam; it's just a thunder storm."

And then it struck Dean that this was the first one Sam had experienced since he lost his hearing. Does that mean he heard it?

_No wonder he looks so terrified._

"Sam?" Dean tried not to feel hopeful.

When he received no response, Dean inwardly sighed in disappointment then gently grabbed his arm, finally getting his attention. "It's ok Sammy, I promise. It's just thunder." And he vaguely wondered what was going on. Catching Nick's eye he raised an eyebrow, and she nodded in agreement. Coaxing Sam into sitting back down, Dean joined him and spoke carefully. "Before your ears were damaged, thunderstorms scared you because of the noise, right?"

Sam thought for a long moment. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So, what scared you just now?" Dean waited patiently for his answer.

"It felt like the whole house was shattering, going to pieces. I could feel the ground shaking." Sam replied eventually. "Like when the hotel went up. I couldn't hear anything but I could _feel_ it."

Dean nodded. He was pretty sure that would've freaked him out, feeling but not hearing what was going on around him. He glanced at Nick, who was offering him...a _balloon?_

"Can you blow this up for me? I want to show you both something." Nick grinned at the brothers' confusion.

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean who shrugged and started inflating the balloon. Once it was at a sensible size, he tied it off and handed it back to Nick who gave him a small cardboard box.

"Earplugs?"

"Put them in." Nick laughed. "Trust me this won't hurt a bit."

Giving an easy going smile and, to Sam's intense amusement trying to look cool about it, Dean complied, stuffing the small yellow foam plugs into his ears.

"Sam, I want you to hold the balloon to your mouth, then press the other end to Dean's ear." At Sam's questioning gaze she explained. "It'll give your brother some idea of what it feels like."

Sam did as he was asked.

"Now say 'Hi. My name is Sam Winchester' but say it quite loudly."

Feeling a little self-conscious and trying to stem the need to giggle nervously, Sam repeated the words.

"Hi. My name is Sam Winchester."

Dean gasped a little at the weird sensation. The mild vibration ran through his ear, but he also felt it in the ear lobe and shell, spreading out to the rest of his face.

It wasn't unpleasant however and he signalled to Sam to say something else. He couldn't hear his brother's voice but he _felt_ it. Dean stared at his little brother in wonder and finally understood where this was going.

Nick nodded in quiet satisfaction. "And now the _real_ therapy begins."

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Nice had spent the entire month studying both boys discreetly. They needed each other, that was as plain as the nose on her face, and they also both needed to be involved in whatever therapy she decided on. Her usual patients were only given a week or so to adjust to their surroundings, but these boys needed more time. They were both deeply hurt, and in more than just the physical sense, not to mention that these kids were effectively gypsies, never settling down and always on the move. The dogs were a huge help in the healing process, which came as no surprise. Their calm, loving influence had been a huge, positive turning point for Sam and Dean.

Nick was a great advocate of the "Feeling the music philosophy". It was a relatively new concept in helping sensory impaired individuals to perceive, visualise and interpret music by its rhythms and vibrations. The children that came to the farm were more often than not youngsters with dual-sensory impairment, or deafblind as she once explained to Sam and Dean. Kids with Profound & Multiple Learning Difficulties, or PMLD, were Nick's real specialty, though with Sam's astounding eyesight, not to mention already exceptional lip reading abilities and sky high IQ, her job had already been made easier.

And her job was _not_ to give Sam back his hearing, she made that quite plain to the boys one night at dinner; her job was to help him come to terms with it, accept it, learn to function _in spite of it. _

Maybe even because of it.

As far as Nick was concerned Sam was already half way there. She'd been amazed at how well he could lip read when he first arrived considering he'd lost his hearing only a week or so before he arrived. But a month on? Most people took much longer to nail it the way Sam had, and others, sadly, took a life time.

Even his speech was improving, with barely a stutter. In fact, to meet Sam for the first time and engage him in conversation, a complete stranger wouldn't have guessed Sam suffered from total hearing loss. Except, of course, that Sam's eyes always remained trained on the person's mouth.

But Nick wasn't just there to help Sam.

Dean was suffering far more than he let on; she heard him some nights, prowling the house, checking windows were closed and doors were locked. And then he would repeat the process several times. She knew that he was indeed deeply troubled whenever he went downstairs to the kitchen and never went came back up again. Nick had silently followed him a couple of times to find him just sitting there staring out the window, as if scanning for danger. It was the only time he was ever really apart from Sam.

Nick's heart broke for Dean as much as Sam; he'd grown up long before his time. Although it was a month later, these nights on sentry duty were becoming less frequent and Dean was sleeping more soundly, there were still times when she would wake in the middle of the night 

and go to the kitchen to make herself some hot chocolate, and there he would be, sitting alert in the darkness.

It was one of those very nights, during the first couple of weeks, that the events leading up to Sam's hearing loss truly came to the surface. Nick was originally given a brief tale involving bullying and pranks at school but she never believed it for a second.

Nick, dressed in too-big pyjamas, drifted into the kitchen half asleep, heading for the stove. She already knew Dean was sitting at the table and turned to ask him if he wanted some hot chocolate...and that was when she truly felt her heart break for the first time. For Dean.

Dean was hunched over, shoulders trembling, one hand covering his eyes, the other resting on the table scrunched into a fist. Without saying a word, Nick filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove, then grabbed a bottle of Napoleon Brandy from the shelf. Once the kettle was boiled, she added a small shot of the spirit to the hot chocolate, stirred it thoroughly, then placed it in front of the troubled boy. Uncurling his hand, she pushed the mug and wrapped his cold fingers round it.

"Drink some of this." Nick suggested quietly. "I don't normally allow teens to be drinking strong spirits, but I can make an exception in this case, yes?"

Dean's other hand dropped to the table with a small thud, and Nick could see he'd been crying. Wanting to drag the poor boy into her arms but knowing it wouldn't be welcome, she just sat quietly and waited patiently. And a few sips of the brandy-laced hot drink later, she was rewarded.

His voice was husky from crying and lack of sleep, but his words nevertheless struck deep. "_When we found him they'd buried him alive, locked in the trunk... he was dying..."_

Nick imagined she'd remember that night, his broken words, until the day she died.

The older brother was deeply shaken but couldn't discuss it with Sam, not in full. And that, Nick felt, was part of the problem; Dean needed to talk to Sam, for both their sakes.

And so after a month of studying their behaviour, habits, the way they looked after and protected each other, Nick came to a conclusion that the "Feeling the music philosophy" was the best course of action. It would be fun, rewarding and the interaction it would bring about between them might help the boys come to terms with what had happened.

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Not wanting to get into it too heavily on the first session, especially with the thunderstorm still raging outside, Nick decided to concentrate on the sounds and lightning. It was the first sign that winter was really coming to an end and that spring would soon be here. She signalled to Dean that he could remove the ear plugs, got up and opened the curtains fully, exposing the angry skies, then plunked herself cross-legged on the floor.

"Ok. Come join me, in a triangle."

Sam glanced at Dean, feeling a little worried until his older brother took the lead and followed Nick's request. Sighing, Sam joined them both on the polished wooden floor wondering where the hell this was going. _Are we having a séance?_

"Sam, I want you take this," she held out a thick felt cloth "and blindfold your brother."

Dean looked startled at that but didn't object, he didn't care what he had to do if it meant helping his brother. Nick knew the only person he'd trust to do this to him would be Sam, so she folded her arms with a slight smile on her face.

"Hey! Not too tight!" Dean half protested with a small laugh.

"Wuss!"

"I'll give you wuss, you little..."

"Alright, shall we begin?" Nick interrupted, trying not to laugh. "Now, Dean, place your hands palm downwards on the floor."

Dean did as he was asked and waited patiently for the next instructions.

"Now. Dean you are Sam's ears to hear the thunder, Sam you are Dean's eyes to see the lightning. When the thunder starts, Dean, I want you to thump your hand down to count out the seconds, and call them out. Understand?"

"Ok."

"Sam, when the lightning hits I want you to shout STOP! Loud as you can, are you ready?"

"I think so."

Sam sounded so worried that Nick leaned over and briefly grasped his hand. "There's nothing to worry about. You're perfectly safe here. Now turn towards the window and no peeking at your brother!"

Sam gave a small nod and turned his back to watch the sky.

Then the thunder struck again, but it wasn't so loud by now, clearly having moved on, heading South.

Dean thumped loudly on the floor, calling out the seconds.

"One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, four-one thousand, five-one thousand..."

Lightning flashed across the skies and Sam shouted "STOP!" He turned back to garner Nick's reaction.

"Excellent! You've done well so far, but let's make it more interesting." Nick shifted a little to stretch her back. "This time Sam, same as before but I want you to count the number of seconds also. And it will be trickier this time as the storm is further away. And now I want you to sit a little further away from your brother."

It was true. The last time Sam barely felt the vibrations run through the house. The next time would be virtually impossible for him to count for himself. He wiggled along the floor closer to the window, sat and waited.

Dean stayed silent. He'd figured out what Nick was up to and hoped to Christ it worked.

Suddenly Sam felt small vibrations of another kind through the floor, consistent beats, and he now understood what he had to do. When the lightning came again, this time in the distance, he yelled out "STOP!"

Sam turned to face Nick and Dean, who was pulling off the blindfold.

"Well? How many seconds Sam?"

Sam hesitated, hoping he'd got it right, and glanced worriedly at his brother. Dean just smiled encouragingly.

"Nine?"

The room went wild with Dean sweeping his brother up in a big hug, the dogs jumping about excitedly and Nick applauding, the suspicion of tears in her eyes. No matter how many children she helped to get this far, no matter how hard or easy the struggle, it never failed to move her.

Dean held on to his baby brother for a second longer before pulling back, his hands framing Sam's face. "Knew ya could do it little bro."

Nick watched on, one hand scratching Peppy's ears, and nodded with satisfaction. It was just a small step, for the both of them.

But it was in the right direction.

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"_John? It's Caleb. Just heard from Missouri."_

John glanced at Bobby and signalled to pull over.

"How did she know...? Never mind." John should've known better than to think she'd keep out of it. "What she say?"

"_Somethings comin' and it's bad. She thinks that whoever killed Mary is searching for your sons."_

"Shit! Godamnit!" John stood and pace the length of the RV, not for the first time missing Dean and Sam, but knowing they were safe had been enough. Until _now_ obviously.

Bobby leaned over the steering wheel and waited, looking up at John questioningly.

"_Yeah I hear ya. But she also says that Sam and Dean are cloaked for now by Dr Le Monnier. She's a pretty powerful psychic by all accounts."_

John sighed though not in relief. "That's not all though, right?"

A small pause before Caleb came through loud and clear. "_'Fraid not..."_

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He poked his head round the door after waiting respectfully for an answer to his knock.

"Boss?"

"Whatever it is, it better be good news." Came the gruff reply from behind the newspaper.

"Uh...not sure about that, but there's a guy here to see you."

"Tell 'im to make an appointment."

"Already suggested that..."

"And?"

"He pinned me up against the wall and threatened to pull my intestines out my ass." A small pause loaded with fear followed. "I believe him."

Marco shook the newspaper distractedly and muttered not loud enough to hear "should give the guy a fucking medal." Loudly he said "So? Just shoot 'im!

"Uh...he pinned me against the wall without touching me boss." There was a brief scuffle in the background. "Uh boss? He's kinda scary."

"What?"

"His eyes...they're...uh...kinda yellow." A small strangled noise came from the back of his throat. "And he's got one hell of a grip on my balls..."

"ALRIGHT!" Marco finally yelled impatiently. Clearly he wasn't gonna get any peace this afternoon. "Send 'im in!"

By the time the newspaper was angrily thrown down, an indeed _very_ scary looking guy, in a dark suit, was standing in front of Marco's desk.

Marco spluttered around his Cuban cigar. "What the hell are you?"

"Not what. Who. And I have a proposition for you." The guy had to be in his middle to late forties, with dark hair, almost handsome if not for the weird amber coloured eyes. "You want the Winchesters. So do I. And I know how to find them."

Marco eyed the stranger warily. "And what makes you think I don't?"

The guy leaned over the desk, a little threateningly. "_'Cos ya haven't done such a bang up job so far."_

Marco refused to show any fear. He did however gulp rather loudly.

The stranger nodded and smiled.

It wasn't a pleasant smile.

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_**Author's notes:**_

My apologies to anyone out there that knows the music therapy concept better than me. If you're interested you can look it up online. I adopted the concept of "Feeling the music therapy" by Russ Palmer, based on a paper presented at the third Nordic Conference of 

Music Therapy in Finland, 1997. And I actually think it has sound basis (pardon the pun) in therapy, though I do not profess to be an expert in any way shape or form. We all know how relaxing and therapeutic music can be; just imagine a life without it.

The website also explains a bit about the balloon experiment.

Yes the timeline is a little skewed but I thought what the hell, its fan fiction!

Also the thunder and lightning exercise cannot be found online (as far as I'm aware) because it came from the Skag Trendy's Library According to Bullshit. Seriously, it won't work 'cos I made it up. (Surprise surprise!)

I'm well aware of my ignorance in a lot of these matters, but I do hope I've handled it with some decorum. My intention is merely to entertain, not to offend.

Hope you all enjoyed it even though there wasn't much action at this stage. And many thanks for all your support for this story. As always much appreciated.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	16. Chapter 16

**In The Arms of Love chapter 16**

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_**Notes: I've taken a few liberties in this chapter. On the show demons can walk on consecrated ground e.g Meg walked into the church and slaughtered Pastor Jim in Season 1. In the last episode of Season 2 the YED managed to walk into the cemetery to fight the Winchesters once the iron tracks were broken. **_

_**But let me ask you this: if they could walk on hallowed ground,**__**why were Meg and her brother so easily put off by the holy water that John Winchester sprayed from the water tank in Salvation? **_

_**(Is that the episode I'm thinking of?)**_

_**So in the spirit (ha! Pardon the pun!) of show anomalies, I've decided to bugger around with that a bit...**_

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Marco narrowed his gaze thoughtfully in what he hoped was an expression of intelligent distain. Unfortunately for him the guy with the weird yellow eyes knew exactly what was running through the fat Italian's mind: Marco was shitting himself and rightly so.

"What's in it for you? And how do you intend to find them?" Marco tried not to flinch when the demon sat down almost genteelly and crossed his legs. his head rolling over to stare at him. Just like a snake.

"I want Sam Winchester alive, the other two you can have. Do what you want with them, but the youngest belongs to me..."

Marco got to his feet indignantly. "Now wait just a fucking minute..."

The eyes glowed yellow again, and Marco wisely took it as a signal to shut the fuck up. "_The youngest_," The demon hissed angrily, "_belongs to me._ _What part of that are you having trouble with? He's not yours to touch in any way, shape or form."_

He relaxed and watched as Marco try to digest that. When it became apparent to the human that it wasn't a request but a threat, the demon smiled warmly.

"Glad we understand each other." Gracefully uncrossing his legs and rising from his seat, he spoke once more. "In answer to your second question, that's _my_ business. All you need to do is provide the muscle. _Human_ muscle, and I'll do the rest."

Marco was stunned into silence as the stranger with the yellow eyes left the room. He didn't even budge when he heard the sharp cry of pain and a strange gurgling noise from the office next door; he never did like his secretary and bodyguard anyway, and clearly neither did Yellow Eyes.

"What the hell did he mean by that?" Marco wondered aloud. _Human_ muscle? What other kind was there? "Fuckin' asshole!"

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"What else did he say?" Bobby nodded at the cell phone in John's hand. The man in question was scratching his head worriedly, staring out the windshield.

"Although Nick has the boys psychically cloaked, Missouri's certain that whatever killed Mary could find the boys by other means." John's voice was _just_ this side of frustrated.

Bobby glanced back from the road briefly in shock. "It's _that_ powerful? Jesus Christ! You'd better call Nick and warn her, tell her to get the boys away from there!"

"And go where exactly?" John tried to stay calm but the tension was mounting. "_Nowhere_ is safe!" He got up and started pacing the cab, and Bobby was struck once again by the similarities between John and his oldest son. "No. It'll take time to find them so they're safe where they are for now, but we only have a few weeks according to Missouri."

Both men fell silent as Bobby manoeuvred the RV off the road, backed it up behind the tree line and turned off the engine so they could talk properly.

"So what now? Head back to the boys?" Bobby suggested.

"If we do that Marco could follow us and find them all the more quickly." In the last month or so since leaving the boys at Nick's, Bobby and John had been playing a deadly game of cat and mouse all across the country, leaving false trails for Marco's hired hit men, changing licence plates several times, and with Caleb's help, drawing Marco further away from Sam and Dean. Bobby had been stabbed in the shoulder and John didn't escape injury either, which was evident in the way he kept rubbing his leg.

Bobby sighed. "Yeah, but when they do find the kids, _and_ _they will_, how can we protect them if we aint there?"

John gazed unseeingly ahead of him for a long moment. He figured he'd spent enough time apart from his sons, and it was making him more and more uneasy with each passing day. John pulled out his cell phone again, hitting redial. "Caleb?" He spoke when the call was answered. "We need another favour..."

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Sam sat with his back to his brother as Dean struck a tuning fork on the edge of the kitchen table and held it close to Sam's ear.

"Higher."

Dean grinned. His little brother was picking this up _real_ quickly. They'd been at this exercise for half an hour, testing different forks with Sam using the vibrations to determine the pitch of each tone. And he got it right nearly every time.

The next task was one of Dean's favourites. He and Nick had set up the speakers and spent the entire morning going through Nick's music collection, picking out the coolest tracks and discarding the crap. Sade and Tanita Tikaram both went out the window as did Shakin' Stevens, though _his_ album was accompanied by the patented Dean Winchester Scowl of Disapproval. Nick protested that it belonged to one of the part time farm hands but Dean wasn't fooled for a second.

"Shakin' Stevens..._Jesus Christ..." _Dean shook his head in disgust. Nick just shrugged and held out a CD case.

Dean nodded. "Now _that's_ more like it!" He grabbed the Beach Boys Greatest Hits and slid the CD into the player.

"Hey Sammy! You pickin' up good vibrations?" He called out when Sam turned to face him. His brother tilted his head to the side and bit his lip, trying to figure out the music. Once he had it he rolled his eyes at Dean and threw a sofa cushion at him with disconcerting accuracy.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

But _damn_ Sammy was getting good at this. He couldn't hear the actual music, true, but he could make out what was being played just by _feeling_ it. The way Dean understood it, and had at least tried it out himself with the use of the ear plugs again, vibrations that produced low pitch tones could be felt in the feet, legs and hips; the middle pitch tones were felt in the stomach, chest and arms, and the high pitch tones in the fingers, head and hair. Both boys had laughed at the notion of feeling music through their hair, but Nick soon proved it to them.

Then they'd started playing about with the speakers, changing the balance and moving them around so that Sam had to decide which direction the music was coming from. At this stage Peppy had wandered from the room, the Newfoundland already bored stiff, but Kerac had been quite the comedian. His head constantly swivelled back and forth between the speakers, ears flapping in bewilderment, and whenever the music changed he watched the speakers as intently as a cat would watch a field mouse, head cocked to one side, daring them to move. The poor dog seemed quite baffled until Dean managed to sneak on some Motorhead or Metallica. Then Kerac went mad, leaping round the room barking joyfully.

"Oh great. A retriever that head bangs to Creeping Death. Just what I need." Sam said flatly, but one corner of his mouth was curled into a smile.

"Your dog has great taste dude! You should be proud!" And with that Dean air-guitarred his way round the room with Kerac bouncing at his heels.

Their doctor's own dog, a quiet, big black elderly Labrador called Nelson, carried on watching with his own smug interest.

Next came The Ace Of Spades, which had them all laughing loudly when the young dog started howling then chasing his tail, his body quivering excitedly. Nelson decided he'd had enough and waddled out the room, arthritis impeding him.

Sam couldn't concentrate properly and also had to shoo Kerac from the room before the lesson turned into a farce. The retriever glanced up at him in offended surprise, stuck his muzzle in the air and flounced off, his posture clearly stating that if Sam wanted to get back on his good side then he would have to indulge in lot's of cuddles, belly rubs and, inevitably, food.

The winter was definitely becoming a distant memory as spring galloped onwards, the evenings drawing out with some spectacular sunsets. Less time was spent in the kitchen in front of a roaring fire and more time spent outside playing catch with the dogs, and Nick got to practice some BBQ dishes, much to Dean and Sam's delight. The boys had grown closer, each learning something new with every exercise or task that Nick set them. And it was always fun, especially now with the warmer weather and the lessons could be taken outside, sometimes going deep into the surrounding forest. Nick would tell them about the history of the farm and surrounding land, and Sam was particularly interested to note that the farm itself stood on the foundations of an old church dating back to the late 1700s. The cemetery had long since been reclaimed by nature, the old worn headstones had crumbled away under the touch of the elements as the centuries passed by, as though it might never have existed.

The part time farmhands soon returned from the winter break and seemed friendly enough, though Dean didn't want to spend too much time around them in case word got out about the two teenage boys that were staying there. Nick's other students would be coming back in the late summer and it was hoped that the issue of Marco could be dealt with by then, and the boys would be back with their father.

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"_Nick? John Winchester here."_

Nick smiled into the receiver. "Salut John! Good to hear from you so soon. The boys _will_ be pleased; they have so much to tell you about Sam's progress..."

"_I'm afraid this aint a social call. Nick, you know something of what goes on out there, right?"_

She paused to consider his words. "Of course..." she replied slowly, _warily._

"_Then you should know that something's trying to find my sons..."_

"But they are well hidden here..."

"_Not from whatever __**this**__ is, believe me. Bobby and I are on our way but the first sign of trouble, you hit the road with the boys and you don't look back. Call us from the nearest phone booth."_

"John, what has this got to do with Marco Del Vecchio?"

There was a stunned silence and Nick heard John take in a long deep breath, followed by soft chuckling.

"_Dean told you huh? Thought he might."_

"Why wouldn't you tell me yourself? Why all the lies about school bullying?" Nick frowned in confusion. "And yet you will speak the truth about what you do?"

"_Nick..."_ John began, but was interrupted.

"My father told me what you are, John. You cannot lie to a psychic."

Another deep sigh came over the line. _"Yeah. Missouri told me. Especially a __**French **__psychic at that!"_And he had to admit the woman had a valid point. Why lie about a mafia boss when something far more dangerous was on the prowl out there?

"Too true!" Nick chuckled, before returning to her previous question. "So, this _Marco_. What's he got to do with all this?"

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His yellow eyes glowed triumphantly. The past month had been a frenzied search for what was his; the kid was young but already his talents, lying dormant for so long, were slowly awakening. It was a dead giveaway. A few brief flashes here and there, nothing strong but enough to tell him that somewhere out there, a young Sam Winchester was growing into his powers. Powers that had been given..._a helping hand._

The yellow gleam dulled a little, remembering The Protector. The older boy. He was a force to be reckoned with and in time his own psychic skills would emerge, if they hadn't already. But there was no way of telling. Sam was the only one of them that was marked and Dean couldn't be traced, not that it mattered; wherever Sam went Dean would be there. No question of that. The Protector and his father would be taken care of by the humans, and Sam would be left to his destiny.

Dean could never be touched, being the first born. In a way that made him the more innocent one.

The demon _hated_ using humans to do his dirty work. They were unreliable, often lazy and stupid. In the case of Marco, fat and all of the above, he was a disgusting piece of filth and hell was just screaming for a pound or more of his flesh. After all, the demon smirked to himself, there sure was enough to go round.

But he couldn't walk upon hallowed ground, no matter how dated or fallen into disrepair it might be.

He smiled widely. Never mind. A conclusion was about to be reached. He'd _found_ them. Reaching for the phone he grimaced at the thought of conversing with that idiot but knew he had little choice.

The psychic cloak from the French bitch had only worked for so long, but now it was working for _him._ In a sense, he'd turned the cloak over and used it as a magnifying glass.

Where once it concealed, _now_ _it revealed_...

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Dean still took Sam out on long hikes, even camping over night if weather permitted, feeling that the outdoors were a calming influence on them both. Nick would provide more food than either brother was capable of eating in one sitting, which Dean would carry in his back pack along with a small dome tent, kettle and bottled water. Sam carried the first aid kit, compass, map and sleeping bags, though he protested that he could easily carry more. The Winchesters never went out unarmed; hunting knives, handguns and one high powered rifle in case of bear attacks completed their arsenal.

So with Kerac bouncing alongside them and Peppy plodding along happily, the two boys set out in the early hours of the morning, with Nick waving them off from the kitchen window. Once they hit some of the higher slopes they would stop for a light breakfast and watch the sunrise over the mountains. The beauty of it never failed to take their breath away; even the dogs would sit there panting quietly, soft eyes trained on the ever brightening horizon as one or other of the boys gently stroked their silky ears.

It was during one of these moments that the boys realised something important. It had been steadily growing, creeping up on them, and with one too many coincidences after another even Sam had been quietly discounting it, but now it was impossible to ignore.

_Coffee,_ Dean had thought to himself with a wide yawn, _I need coffee now._ The steadily growing warmth from the rising sun was sending him off into a light doze, and he was determined not to waste anymore daylight.

_I'd prefer tea,_ although Sam wasn't really all that fussed, _it's just more refreshing._

_Sorry Sammy,_ Dean felt a little guilty, _I only brought coffee. I guess I should've packed a thermos for you._

_S'ok. I can drink coffee._ Sam's eyes widened and the brothers both fell silent, staring at each other.

This time, _this time, _Dean spoke aloud, his voice wavering a little in shock even though he kept the tone conversational. "Uh...what the hell just happened?"

Sam blinked up at his brother. "Not sure. I think...um...I think we heard each other's thoughts"

Another lengthy silence followed, each brother watching the other suspiciously. Eventually Dean just sighed.

"Maybe it was just a coincidence. I mean, we've spent a lot of time around each other since Marco appeared on the scene."

Sam shook his head. "No, this has been going on for a while now. Come on Dean, you know it has." Grinning he added, "S'kinda cool! It means you truly are my ears! Let's try it again."

Dean nodded. "Ok, but just don't be disappointed if it doesn't work." Though he had to agree with Sam; reading each other's thoughts meant they could communicate directly without speaking a word. Dean's mind was agog with the kinds of mischief the two of them could get up to, especially where their father was concerned. He was also surprised by how little this was freaking him out; most people would've struggled with it, but then the Winchesters weren't most people.

More silence reigned. The brothers continued watching each other closely until Dean sighed heavily again. "S'not working Sam."

"Maybe it only works when we're not trying, ya know, like not actually thinking about it?" Sam looked so hopeful, almost desperate in spite of all the progress he'd made, that Dean couldn't bring himself to knock the poor kid back down again.

"Ok Sam. I'll keep an open mind but I just don't wanna see you hurt again buddy," Dean answered slowly and carefully. "Try not to get your hopes up ok?"

"I won't, but you know I'm right." Sam's happy smile accompanied by a big show of dimples made Dean's own mouth begin to curl up again in response, and along with it came his usual thoughts

_I'm so proud of you kiddo._

Sam's eyes went wide again, but this time full of love and wonder. "Thanks. I...I'm proud of you too." He whispered, looking close to tears by now.

Dean froze. His brother had heard him yet again. How was this even possible? Had Sam's hearing loss caused this? And if so, how had it affected both brothers? Then he remembered the conversation he'd once had with Nick; she'd told him that he and Sam were _both_ psychic and even though he'd scoffed at the idea back then, now Dean was starting to seriously wonder about it. And maybe now was the time to discuss it with Sam.

"Dean? I know about the psychic stuff ok? And you can talk to me about anything." Sam's puppy dog gaze could easily rival Kerac's, and Dean felt his heart thudding just that little bit more loudly. "If it hadn't been for you I don't think I'd have survived this far, so yeah, I think Nick was right."

The boys stared at each other, understanding and trust an almost tangible force between them, until Dean turned and bumped Sam's shoulder with his own. "Don't you start that Chick Flick crap with me," but the harsh words were softened by his big brother's lazy, affectionate grin. "You'll set the dogs off and they already hold the Olympic gold medal for the Touchy Feelies."

As though understanding that they were now a part of the discussion, Kerac wriggled until his warm body was firmly wedged under Sam's arm then shoved his big wet nose into Sam's ear, snuffling and whining softly. Sam giggled, gently swatted the snout away then wrapped his other arm round the dog, holding him close. Peppy just rolled over onto his back, grinning stupidly with his legs in the air.

"Have you _any_ idea how undignified that looks?" Dean huffed out in mock annoyance. But Peppy just gave him a contented look that contrived to suggest he didn't give a toss about dignity, so long as he had belly rubs on tap. What was the point of owning a human otherwise? Dean grinned and willingly obliged, watching as the big dog's eyes narrowed to slits, savouring the pleasure. "The things I do for you, mutt!" He frowned over at his little brother. "This _ever _gets out and I'll..."

"Yeah I know. Don't worry my lips are sealed dude." Then added silently _until the next time he starts a prank war; maybe I should get some photos..._

Dean's head shot round. "I'm _never _letting you near my camera again ya little shit!"

Sam chuckled loudly, earning an excited lick along his jaw from Kerac. "You still haven't forgiven me for that huh? Come on Dean that was over a year ago!"

Dean glared at him. "I woke up to find..._parts_ of my anatomy painted blue!"

Smothering a grin, Sam replied "Maybe you were just cold..."

"You'd painted ears, a nose and a mouth on it!"

"Not my fault you were so drunk you didn't wake up..." Sam was full on smirking at this point.

Dean carried on interrupting, not even aware of Sam's input and that was probably just as well. "And _then_ when I get to school I find photocopies all over the damn hallway, and even though my face wasn't in the shot, _somehow_ everyone_ knew it was me!_" He glared at Sam accusingly.

"Well, when you put it like that...maybe ya shouldn't go crashing parties."

"You're just damn lucky that was our last day in that place little bro!"

By this time Sam was practically howling with laughter, "Gotta admit," he choked out between gasps, "I sure got you back for the shampoo!"

And that was the point where Dean launched himself at Sam, tackling him to the ground and they both tumbled harmlessly in the damp grass. He managed for about five whole seconds to pin his younger brother down to correct him on that score.

"Painting and photographing Not-So-Little-Dean, then putting him on display is _not_ 'getting me back', it's exploitation!" Dean let out a yelp when Sam bucked him off and sent him sprawling. But he soon got back up and went after his little brother again. "I mean, dude! I didn't even get paid!"

Sam couldn't take it anymore and just rolled around on the grass laughing helplessly, allowing Dean the advantage which he took without hesitation. His kid brother may have grown up a little in the last few months or so but it hadn't dampened his sensitivity, and Dean attacked, ruthlessly tickling him until he could barely breathe from giggling.

"Pl...please De...st...stop!"

"Apologise and submit."

Wh...what?"

"I'm the alpha male here and you're the giggling little girl. Apologise for the photos and submit."

"Never!"

"Never's a long time dude," Dean commenced the attack with renewed relish, "and I can keep this up all day."

Sam finally managed to free a leg, hooked it round one of Dean's and somehow flipped him off. Scrambling to his knees and grinning, Sam turned only to have the full force of Dean knocking him to the ground once again. This time, however, he tackled his little brother a bit harder than he intended and he knew something was wrong as soon as the back of Sam's head slammed into the ground.

He felt a loss somehow, a broken connection. And it was one of the weirdest feelings he'd ever had. Well, next to hearing his brother's thoughts that is..._Oh shit!_

"Sam?" Dean stared down at Sam worriedly and giving him a gentle shake. "Sammy?"

Sam didn't respond but was panting softly from exertion, his eyes closed. Dean anxiously cradled his brother's head, gently feeling for the steadily growing bump at the back.

"Ah shit." Dean swore out loud this time and grabbed a bottle of water from his back pack, took off his button-down shirt and soaked it. The water was still quite cold, and Dean used the wet material to bathe Sam's face, then pressed it over the bump. "Come on Sam wake up."

Six minutes later by Dean's watch Sam still hadn't come round, and not only that but he still wasn't getting any of his brother's thoughts either. Dean was starting to panic.

_Or maybe it doesn't work when we're asleep. God I'm so sorry little bro. I should've been more careful. At least there's no blood..._

_Deeeaann..._

Dean blinked, not sure if he really heard it.

_Deeeaann...?_

He stared hard at Sam's lax features, still holding the make-shift cold compress to the back of his kid brother's head, and started wondering again. Sam's thoughts were faint, probably as a result of being unconscious if Dean's theory was correct, though if Sam was just beginning to stir then it explained why Dean hadn't heard anything until just now.

Sure enough Sam's eyelids fluttered and a hand weakly reached out and gripped Dean's Tee shirt.

_Deeaan...wha'..._Stronger this time.

_Easy kiddo. You hit your head._

Hazy blue-green eyes peered up at him, and Dean smiled. "How ya feelin'?"

Sam paused for a second as if figuring out his brother's words. "M'ok."

_Liar. _Dean raised an eyebrow. He'd figured this out pretty quickly. The speed of Sam's thought response would determine just how well or badly he was _really_ doing.

_Head hurts._ Sam threw him a clumsy sheepish grin.

_Not surprised. Sorry Kid._

_Not your fault. Could just as easily have been you. _Sam winced then spoke softly as if the energy involved in hearing and transmitting thoughts was just too much for him right now. "We should get going." And he tried to stand up without much success.

Dean easily pushed him back down. "Just sit and rest for now ok? Then we're heading straight back."

Sam gazed at him disappointedly. "I'm ok Dean, it's just a knock to the head. I'm not even bleeding and my sight isn't blurred now. Much. Don't let it spoil our weekend?" And _out_ came the kicked puppy eyes, which was now joined by two other sets in the form of Peppy and Kerac, who'd come bounding over to see what all the fuss was about. "_Please _Dean?"

_Oh God!_ _I'm such a sap._ Dean hid his eyes for a second then scrubbed a hand down his face. "Ok. But on _my_ terms, right?" At Sam's solemn nod, he started counting off on his fingers.

"One, we stay here until after lunch so you get some proper rest. Two, you _eat_ lunch, _all _of it. Three, we head back this evening straight after supper. No camping out tonight. _Four, _the minute you feel sick or in pain you'd better tell me, ok Sammy? Remember, we got this whole psychic thing goin' on and I can soon use it, but I'd rather trust you first. Deal?"

He held out a hand and Sam stared at him in shock. He knew what this was about. This wasn't just about Dean's responsibility towards Sam; this was also about _teaching_ Sam to take some responsibility for his own well being. In spite of everything, Sam still had a tendency to hide his injuries away, not wanting to worry his big brother. But Dean was offering him the chance to own up _before_ that chance was taken away.

Sam nodded slowly, thoughtfully, and placed his own hand in Dean's. "Deal."

And they shook on it.

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The morning went quickly as they sat in their favourite spot on the slopes. Dean soon got a fire going with a small kettle of water merrily bubbling away to itself. It was relaxing drinking coffee, talking, laughing, and eventually snoozing in the warm spring sun, lulled to sleep by the soft chirping and buzzing of the wildlife around them. They'd been practicing communicating via their thoughts and it soon became second nature, though that was no real surprise given how close the brothers were, and they were about to find out just how far it could go.

Dean woke up to a large wet tongue being swept up and down his face, from neck to forehead. When he opened his eyes it was to be met by a big black furry face with a familiar grin, which widened when the dog realised he was well and truly awake.

"Lemme guess, you're hungry again right?" Peppy tipped his head to one side as if in confirmation, then started nudging Dean with his muzzle. "All right! Just let me get up!" Peppy backed off a little way so Dean could reach over and give his brother a shake. When he got no response panic started to set in all over again. "Sam?"

_I knew I should've taken him back right away!_

_Relax dude. I'm in a light sleep. Just leave me be for a bit and I'll find my own way back._ Sam's thoughts came through ok, but sluggishly.

_Huh? You can hear my thoughts when you're asleep?_

_Only light sleep. When I'm unconscious or in a deep REM sleep then no, I don't think I can._

Dean tried to think about that without being too 'loud'.

_I can still hear you!_

_Sorry dude. _And Dean felt genuine guilt; Sam had hit his head because of his carelessness, and now he was denying him any rest to properly recover without even trying. _How fucked up is that?_

Sam sighed, gave up trying to sleep and opened his eyes. "It's not fucked up Dean. We just need to get a handle on this, figure out how to control it. After all, we both need our own private thoughts and I'm pretty sure I don't want inside _your_ head twentyfour-seven." He appeared to shudder with mock fear. "Your conscious mind is scary enough, but your _sub_conscious? Nah thanks, I'd rather not."

Dean glared at him. _You want another bump on the head? Just keep right on goin'._

Sam just grinned back at his older brother as he slowly got to his feet, pushing Kerac ahead of him as he went. "I'm hungry. What's for lunch?"

_Now ya talking kid!_

"Nick prepared some burgers that we can cook from fresh, with some of her special homemade bread rolls." Dean heard four stomachs growl in response to his own answer. Two human, and two canine. "I swear those damn dogs understand our language."

He glanced over at the remains of the camp fire, relieved to see that it hadn't gone out completely; heat accompanied the faint glow when he tentatively placed his hand near it. "Looks like we're good to go Sammy!"

Sam sat down and watched Dean make use of some more kindling and stoke the fire. They chatted as they prepared lunch, sometimes with their thoughts, sometimes out loud. One thing they discovered to their amusement was the ability to carry on a conversation with their mouths full, though with Dean's dirty jokes Sam still managed to either choke or splutter over his food until he developed a way of blocking his brother out. It was surprisingly simple in fact. He just concentrated on his food or anything other than Dean and he ceased to hear him, as though he were tuning him out.

Dean frowned at his little brother, wondering why he wasn't laughing at his latest joke, and gave Sam a nudge with his elbow. "Hey! You even listening?"

"Uh..." Sam shrugged. "No." He grinned. "Remember when I said we had to learn to control it? I think I've figured it out..."

__

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Nick had been discreetly keeping an eye on the boys since their arrival whilst trying not to crowd them, but the phone call from their father a week ago had really shaken her. He'd asked her not to mention the current situation to his sons until it was strictly necessary, but Nick was getting the uneasy feeling that they were all short on time, that whatever was dogging the Winchesters was closer than they thought. It was comforting to know that John and Bobby were even now making speed across the country, but...

She'd been pacing the silent kitchen for a while now, Nelson gazing at her in sympathy. Nick was wondering if she'd made a mistake in letting the boys go out there on their own. But to have stopped their usual activities would only have alerted them that something was wrong. Besides, something told her that Sam and Dean might well be safer out there than in here and at least they were armed.

In here, they'd be sitting ducks.

A small scraping noise from up in the attic caught her attention and she raised her eyes to the ceiling warily. The black lab slowly followed her gaze, hackles rising, a small low, menacing growl gradually building in his throat. Nick glanced at him briefly, gauging his reaction with some trepidation. His wise gaze was still firmly fixed on the ceiling.

Nelson wasn't just angry.

He was furious.

And somehow his growling seemed far more alarming than the silence.

__

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"So, it's like in normal conversation?" Dean asked after Sam explained. "Like when Dad launches into one of his lectures about not leaving dirty breakfast bowls in the sink without soaking them, I just pretend I'm listening when I'm _really_ wondering what our hot chick next door neighbour looks like naked?"

Sam grimaced and narrowed his eyes in disgust. _Yeah, something like that!_

Dean laughed. "Come on, let's clear this mess up and get going."

It didn't take long before the boys and dogs were on their way again, strolling at a slower pace in deference to Sam's lingering headache. Dean could tell his little brother was almost up to full par as his thoughts were coming through nice and clearly by now, but it didn't stop him worrying. And it didn't stop his guilt from showing up every now and then either.

_Dean, we get hurt all the time during training. It's ok. Just rough and tumble like always._

_I know that Sam but I shouldn't have __**been **__so rough, and if I'd reacted in time you wouldn't have hit your head..._

Sam stopped and grabbed Dean's arm, staring at him intently. _Please, for both our sakes. Let it go._

Dean dropped his gaze and nodded. _Ok._

They trudged on in a comfortable silence. It really was a beautiful afternoon and Sam once again felt gloriously free out here. Catching a glimpse of his older brother's face told him Dean felt the same way. Sam could feel Dean's guilt gradually receding as the afternoon wore on, and the conversations often went from slightly silly to the downright ludicrous. 

Dean could tell his brother was getting tired and he felt a little wacked out himself, but pleasantly so. Amongst mild protestations from Sam, he began guiding them back towards the farm.

The dogs were following along, occasionally bounding in and out of the undergrowth and snuffling around for rabbit trails when the boys suddenly halted.

_Dean? Something's wrong!_

_Yeah, I know._

Dean and Sam turned round each other, back to back, staring intently at the forest.

_What is it? Are we being watched?_

_Not in the conventional sense... _Dean countered as best he could.

They turned again, trying to figure out the source of their unease.

_Dean I think something's happened to Nick!_

Dean grabbed Sam's arm to get his full attention. "Drop your back pack, and have your gun loaded and ready."

Even the dogs seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation as they silently fell into step at their master's heels.

Dean felt himself tense in anticipation, but now he felt Sam's fear. And his own.

He carried on whispering in his mind to his little brother to calm him. But Sam wasn't afraid for his _own_ life, he soon realised.

_Safeties off._

With both packs abandoned and carrying only their weapons and ammo, Dean nodded to Sam.

_Stay close._

Stealthily, and with no small amount of dread, humans and dogs alike headed onwards to greet whatever awaited them at the farm.

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_**Author's notes:**_

**Once again I apologise to anyone out there that knows more about the 'feeling the music philosophy' than me; I've also taken some severe liberties here. I don't know or understand nearly enough about it, but I like to think I've tried to explain it as best I can without overwhelming the reader or detracting from the plot. Though I will say that if you get the music volume right, you **_**can**_** actually feel the music. With ear plugs. It gives you a rather unique insight to how sensory impaired people live.**

**I have to say that, although I've always respected them, now I _really_ have a great deal of admiration and better understanding for them. Rather sad it took me researching this story to feel it.**

**Before anyone says anything in the reviews (because I have had some real anal retentive types reviewing my other stories) yes I'm aware that this has turned into a complete ****AU. It might not have been my complete intention to start off with...but what can I say? It is now!**

**So, suspension of disbelief here? People acting out of character enough for you? Come on and have a good bitch at my expense! Oh that's right. You don't read A/Ns 'cos they're just 'excuses', right?**

**Rant over, and you know who you are!**

**To the rest of you who've been keeping up with this story, many thanks for your reviews and if I missed thanking you personally in any way then I sincerely apologise and you may spank me with a paddle brush 'til I beg for mercy.**

**(or at least 'til I whimper for you to stop)**

**Kind regards,**

**ST.xxx.**


	17. Chapter 17

**In The Arms Of Love Chapter 17**

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**I've once again taken some of the show out of context in this chapter; I'm never entirely certain just how much John knew about the YED during Sam and Dean's childhood, if at all, or even if he was aware it was actually a demon he was dealing with. In this chapter, we can assume he knew enough about it to draw his own conclusions, with some pretty close guess work.**

**Also please note that we are getting fairly close to the end of this story though I'm not sure just how many chapters there are to go.**

**My apologies if this chapter seems a little confusing at times; I'm afraid that I got to the stage where I'd fart arsed around with it so much that I was actually making it worse, if at all possible. So in general, if the plot here seems a bit shit then just ignore it and concentrate on enjoying the small amounts of Hurt Sam and Protective Brother Dean, with a side order of a **_**really**_** pissed John.**

_**Warning: This story has been tested on animals; the little bastards fell asleep.**_

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Nelson pushed ahead, refusing to let Nick out of the room. Every time she tried to move by he growled at her softly, forcing her to back off. She'd never seen the normally sweet and docile dog behave like this before; it was unnerving to say the least though she wasn't afraid of him. Not of Nelson.

Nick was afraid of whatever Nelson was trying to protect her from.

Nelson faced forward, broad head and shoulders blocking the doorway to the kitchen. His body was rigid and quivering from head to foot in anger, nose tilted upwards sniffing the air, ears pricked and twitching nervously. Nick edged over to the gun cabinet, slowly released the lock and pulled out her father's faithful old rifle. He'd taught her how to use it from an early age and was now quite the markswoman.

The silence was that uncomfortable, _unnatural_ quiet, made all the more creepy by the gradually setting sun. Shadows were slowly elongating and moving as the light crept across the sky and the evening began that deceptively slow transition into night.

Nick glanced nervously out the kitchen window. It would be dark soon and she hoped like hell the boys were far away, hidden in the safety of the forest and mountains.

Another noise from upstairs, though it was closer this time, had Nelson springing into action. He leapt into the hallway and bounded up the stairs barking angrily.

"Nelson! Come back here you idiot dog!" Nick hissed loudly, but Nelson wasn't interested. He was now too busy hurling himself at Nick's bedroom door, his large body colliding with a loud thud that reverberated throughout the house. He wasn't fazed in the slightest by the impact and kept on trying to bust the door down. All this activity had woken up the rest of the farm and Nick could hear the loud angry squawking of Napoleon the farm goose as he waddled across the yard. Napoleon hadn't been around much since Sam and Dean showed up here, mainly because Kerac had seen him off when he went after Sam, but now he was making his presence known. And he wasn't happy.

Nick reached the top of the stairs and made a grab for Nelson, trying to snag hold of his collar. Even then the dog proved powerful, nearly yanking her arm from its socket as she tried to get him under control.

"Nelson! Silence!" She muttered in his ear and finally he stopped barking, but carried on growling softly, trying to pull away. Swallowing hard, she reached out and turned the doorknob, pushing the door open. The room was still fairly well lit since it faced west towards the sunset, but she still didn't register the dark figures that resided in the shadows, waiting.

Just as Nick was about to set foot in her bedroom, Nelson once again let out a volley of loud barks, pushed her to one side and launched at one of the figures.

A loud shot rang out, followed by a yelp and a thud.

Nick stared in disbelief at Nelson as he lay on the carpet unmoving, a dark red stain spreading out from underneath him. Overcome with fear for her own personal friend and protector, she dropped to her knees, hauled Nelson onto her lap and buried her face in his soft fur, weeping quietly.

Someone stepped into her peripheral vision but she stayed where she was, rocking to and fro, trying to offer what little comfort she could to the dying Labrador. She vaguely registered a phone ringing somewhere in the house, but paid little attention.

"Dr Le Monnier I presume. Sorry about your dog." He didn't sound in the least bit sorry, smug yes, but not sorry. "I think you and I need to talk."

Something hard and cold was pressed into the back of her head, and the click of the hammer being pulled back made her wince. It sounded and felt so final.

"H-how did you g-get in here?" Nick stammered out, fighting back tears.

"A _friend_ of mine knows a trick or two. You may as well put down the rifle; it won't do you much good." He stepped towards her. "I want to know where the Winchester boys are."

The voice wasn't familiar but the slight accent most certainly was, and Nick realised two things, as an overweight guy with at least six chins stepped into her line of sight. Firstly, this was Marco Del Vecchio, and secondly she was..._how do the American's put it? What was that word? Ah yes..._

_..._she was _screwed._

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John held the cell phone to his ear, concern growing with every ring that went unanswered.

"Something's wrong." He turned to Bobby. "How far to go?"

Bobby glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "Another three hours at least. And that's with my foot to the floor."

John shut off the phone and sighed in frustration. They'd made good time once they got rid of the RV but there were still a worrying number of miles between them and his sons. Caleb had somehow managed to procure the assistance of the rather elusive Joshua, picked up the newly repaired Impala from Bobby's salvage yard, then driven through the night. After a brief exchange of words, John and Bobby took off in the Impala, leaving Caleb and Joshua with the RV. Originally the newcomers on the scene had planned to take John and Bobby's place as decoy, road tripping round the country, diverting attention away from Dean and Sam. But now it seemed that things had changed, so instead Joshua and Caleb were now available as backup. John had tried calling the farm several times in the last hour but no one answered. Even if the boys were out for the day, Nick was usually around.

John had the nasty suspicion that things were about to go completely tits up.

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It was quite gloomy under the forest canopy by now, especially as the sun had all but disappeared. The travellers were quiet as they trod carefully through the trees; even the dogs had fallen unusually solemn and silent. Peppy, always carefree and playful like a big fluffy teddy bear, had undergone a complete change of personality. He virtually hugged Dean's thigh protectively, padding with wolf-like stealth alongside his master. Kerac followed suit with the younger brother, ears pricked, nose constantly twitching and sniffing the early evening air. Two canine protectors and their precious human charges.

However, as silent as they were, there was one hell of a conversation going on inside the heads of the young Winchesters.

_Dean, the dogs know something's wrong._

_I know. What do you thinks happened to Nick?_ Although Dean was the oldest his psychic abilities still had some way to go. After all, Sam's awakening had come much earlier than his.

_Not sure, but..._ Dean heard his little brother sigh.

_What is it Sam? What can you feel?_

_I...I think there's someone else at the farm._

_Yeah. _Dean nodded thoughtfully. He'd been picking up that disturbing vibe too. _And it aint Dad or Bobby that much I know._

_I think..._Once again Sam hesitated as if not sure his instincts were worth trusting in this instant. Dean stayed silent, unwilling to push him. _I think there's more than one stranger at the farm, and they're watching for us._

He suddenly halted as a familiar dread swept over him. Sam's eyes narrowed and he tried to control his breathing as panic flared inside.He wasn't entirely correct. One of the newcomers wasn't a stranger.

_Marco's here._

_You sure?_

Sam tried to concentrate on remembering how he felt the day he'd met Marco. He'd been afraid of the guy, how Marco's eyes kept glancing over him appreciatively as though he were at a meat market. He felt anger at the way the guy spoke to his father, how his voice with its false levity and friendship had promised and lied all in one sentence.

Yes, it was faint but it was there. _Betrayal, anger, fear...__**condemnation.**_

"It's him alright." Sam whispered, his voice coming as a surprise to Dean after listening to Sam's thoughts for the last few hours. "And I'd say he's got at least three men as back up. I'm personally acquainted with them."

And the way he said it, anger and bitterness dripping from every syllable, told Dean everything he needed to know. No one of Sam's age should ever have to sound like that, and he felt his hands curl into fists without his bidding as hot fury rose within.

_I'm gonna tear 'em to pieces for hurting you!_

_No Dean, you're not. We're gonna rescue Nick, get the hell out and call Dad._

_Sam..._

_I mean it. We can't afford to risk it._ _Let Dad and Bobby take care of these guys, our job is to stay alive and keep Nick safe._ Even in the now half darkness Dean could just make out Sam's raised eyebrows.

_Alright! Deal._ It was a good job that Sam couldn't hear because Dean continued grumbling under his breath for quite some time.

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Nick spat out blood and sneered up at the Italian. "The boys are far away from here. Left yesterday and you'll never find them!" She yanked on the ropes binding her to the chair but to no avail.

Marco appeared to study her for a second, an amiable expression on his face, then nodded to the other man. Nick was backhanded once again, this time feeling her nose crack under the onslaught.

"Dr Le Monnier, I've no wish to hurt you. Hate it in fact." Marco said in almost sympathy. "Unfortunately, Denzil here just loves to put his fists to good use. And if you don't start talking, a split lip and broken nose _will _be the least of your worries."

"Fuck you, you fat Italian _pig!_" Nick hissed venomously.

"That is _so_ like the French to turn this into a racial dispute." Marco tutted and shook his head. Without saying another word, he raised a hand to Denzil in a 'continue' gesture and left the room.

Nick tried to brace for the worst, but it still wasn't enough.

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It was almost completely dark a couple of hours later when the boys spotted the farmhouse through the trees. The kitchen lights were ablaze as usual, but there was something off about the whole scene. Normally the place looked friendly and welcoming, especially after a long journey, but tonight it was different. Tonight the atmosphere felt menacing.

_Let's try to get a little closer. See if we can't find out where Nick is. _Dean was about to move off when Sam grabbed his arm.

_She's in her bedroom._ Sam stared at him, his clear blue-green eyes catching the dim light. _But she's not alone._

Dean stopped and chewed his lip for a second. _Right. We'll have to lure them away from her somehow, then we go in._

Sam shook his head. _I think we should spli..._

_Don't you dare say it! _Dean glared at him. _No way am I letting you outta my sight! Not again, Sam_

_Dean, we don't have much choice._ Sam softened his gaze. He knew Dean had been struggling with his own demons after what Marco did and didn't blame him in the slightest. Truth be told, Sam wasn't all that keen either. The thought of being more than a few feet away from the protective influence of his big brother unnerved him more than he would care to admit. _I'll stay out here and distract them. Maybe throw stones at the window or somethin'._

Dean still didn't like the idea but it was better than Sam going in on his own without Dean to protect him, and _someone_ had to go in. He nodded. _Ok. But stay out of sight and stay in contact._

As they neared the house, both dogs following on silently, the boys reflected that this would be the first time of using their new skills 'in the field' as it were, and that thought excited them.

They headed for the west wing and separated, Sam and Kerac left behind directly underneath Nick's bedroom window whilst Dean and Peppy crept round towards the kitchen door. As he neared, however, he noticed that the lounge window sash was raised and peered over the ledge into the darkened room.

_Sam? You still with me?_

_Yeah. What's up?_

_Slight change of plan. Going in through the lounge; window's open and with the thick carpeting no one's likely to hear me._

_Good idea. That kitchen screen door squeals like a bastard..._

_Sam!_

_What?_

_Where dya hear language like that?_

_Uh...you and Dad actually._

_Shaddup!_

Sam, huddled underneath the bedroom window, chuckled softly to himself.

Dean managed to crawl in through the gap and dropped silently to the floor, leaving a mournful and worried looking Peppy outside, his soft eyes staring at him through the window.

"Peppy stay. On guard!" Dean whispered, and the Newfoundland straightened up appearing happier now that he had a task of his own. Giving the dog a quick affectionate pat on the head, Dean slunk through the lounge keeping his eyes and ears well and truly open. The sound of a door thudding open and the creaking of floorboards had Dean shrinking back into the shadows. Heavy footsteps indicated that someone was coming down the stairs, and Dean's narrowed his eyes when he saw a familiar figure enter the kitchen.

_You were right Sammy. Marco's here. Just went into the kitchen._

_That's just leaves three...wait! There's only one other up there with Nick!_

Dean frowned and headed for the foot of the stairs. _Better start that diversion little bro._

Sam already had a fairly decent sized rock in his hand and knew exactly what he was going to do with it. It was a slight change of plan once again, but figured that, given the size of Marco's goons, Dean could use all the help he could get. Sam had an aim that anyone would be proud of, so he stepped away from the house and stared up at the window. A large shadow loomed over a much smaller one. Sam guessed the smaller shadow was Nick and that she was sitting down.

_That makes my job easier._

_Sam? What're you doin?_

_Quiet! I'm tryin to think!_

_Well, excuse __**me **__professor..._

_Dean!_

_Alright! Shutting up now._

Sam studied the larger shadow as he took aim, accounted for trajectory, air speed, possible angle of deflection from going through the glass...and his heart pounded angrily when he saw the large shadow raise its arm as if to strike the smaller one. Sam let go of the rock.

It was a beautiful shot and struck the window with the minimum of fuss, a fraction of a second before the large shadow dropped. The net curtains seemed to muffle the sound of breaking glass and Sam heaved a huge sigh of relief.

_Nice one Sammy! _Dean congratulated his brother a second later, as he moved into the bedroom. _Oh my god!_

_Dean? What is it? Nick ok?_

_Um...she's alive and conscious, just. That's about all I can say._

Dean grabbed the hunting knife out of his back pocket and began cutting away the ropes. Nick's eyes were swollen almost shut, her mouth a bloody mess, but she still managed to grin up at Dean with an air of smug French satisfaction.

"Nick? Can you hear me?"

"Never told them where you were." Nick spluttered out through a possible broken jaw, "I soon showed those fucking Italians what we French are made of!"

Dean smiled softly, successfully managing to cover his anger at the state of her face. "You sure did." He gently lifted her into his arms, _almost _resisted the urge to give the downed Mafioso a swift kick to the groin, and felt untold satisfaction when the goon grunted in pain. "Let's get you out of here, huh?"

He glanced down again to find that Nick had finally lost consciousness.

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Marco sat in the kitchen, a glass of Chateau Margot perched in his meaty hand, grinning with some considerable satisfaction. It wouldn't be long before the bitch broke down and told them where the boys were, then one bullet to the brain and it was all over.

The guy with the weird yellow eyes had proven real useful in getting them here, though Marco was still a little hazy on the details. One moment he, Denzil and the other three men were in his office and the next...well. It didn't matter. Marco knew when to keep his mouth shut. And already the heat was on. Yellow Eyes was getting impatient and making the kind of threats that disturbed even Marco.

But once he had the boys John Winchester would stop running and come for them, Marco had no doubts about that.

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Tony crept passed the barn, reflecting that he couldn't wait for this to be over so he could get back to civilisation. He hated the outdoors, but mostly he hated farm animals and dogs, though strangely not enough to kill outright. Humans were not a problem, but he couldn't kill innocent animals. The irony of that was completely lost on his shoe-sized IQ. Fortunately, the goose had succumbed to a tranq dart, and the stupid dogs were easy to distract with the doped meat he laid out for them earlier that evening.

Things may have been going according to plan, as he, Alfredo and Dante scoured the grounds for the youngsters, but Tony was rapidly growing bored. He wished he was up in that French chick's room, banging her brains out before he quite _literally_ banged her brains out, but Denzil was the new guy, the new _pet_.

Tony was the fuck up. And if he fucked up again tonight, the French woman wouldn't be the only one with a bullet hole where her forehead use to be.

He glanced over towards the house and a slow predatory smile formed.

There stood his chance at redemption.

He raised the tranq gun.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

When the Impala pulled up in front of the dirt lane leading up to the house, John jumped out and scanned the area. They were here, he could feel it.

"Gettin' slack in your old age John?" A voice called from behind him and he whirled round, revolver drawn and cocked.

John relaxed and smiled tightly. "Nah, just not gettin' any sleep."

The smug grin on Caleb's face slipped, his brown eyes gleaming with sympathy. "Yeah, I can imagine." He rubbed a hand over his bald head, a sure sign of worry. "Still no word?"

"Nope. Tried again a few times but no one's answering."

Caleb twisted his upper body to glare into the trees. "Hey Josh! Quit foolin' around out there and come say hi!" Then he muttered softly "damn tree hugger."

A tall guy with jet black hair and wearing a dark blue jacket appeared right beside Caleb. "I'm here." He moved as quietly as he spoke, in a soft voice with a slight accent John had never been able to place. "RV's hidden."

Joshua was also a man of few words. His eyes gleamed a pale sky blue as they took in his friends and colleagues, noting every detail, every expression, the weariness and worry. Not much got passed him.

Bobby was busy hiding the Impala, and mild cursing could be heard as he fought his way back through the undergrowth. The car was now completely obscured by branches and leaves. Of course, the car being black also helped matters.

"Caleb, Joshua." Bobby grinned and held out a hand, "Glad you could make it."

The pleasantries were kept short, the subject of Dean and Sam being more important.

"So what's the plan?"

John pointed to several places along the tree line. "We spread out; approach the farm from all sides. We don't know what kind of trouble we're walking into, but the chances are it's a trap."

Weapons were quickly gathered and assembled

"Once we're clear I'll give the signal to rendezvous. Let's go." John stepped back, turned and disappeared into the trees, Bobby, Caleb and Joshua following on.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean froze halfway out the bedroom door when he heard movement downstairs. It sounded like a chair scraping across the wooden floor boards, and he glanced down at the unconscious woman in his arms worriedly. She was in no shape to be dragged around the forests at night and needed medical attention sooner rather than later. In any case, Dean was pretty sure that he wasn't getting them both out of the house, not with Marco on the prowl.

He made a decision he really wasn't very proud of, but it seemed the only way. Instead of heading for the staircase, he silently moved into the hall and made for one of the other bedrooms. Choosing the furthest one from the stairs, he hoisted Nick up a little and slowly turned the doorknob, breathing a silent sigh of relief when the door opened without so much as a squeak. It was one of the children's rooms, used by Nick's pupils during the summer, and there were at least six bunk beds stretching all the way across to the main window.

_Sam? Nick's too badly injured; I'm gonna leave her in one of the bedrooms then see if I can't place a 911 call on the main line downstairs. _They'd quickly learned from their stay on the farm that cell reception up here was poor at best, often not accessible at all.

_Is she gonna be ok?_

He could feel his brother's fear for Nick's life and he sought to reassure him. Dean laid her down on the bottom of the furthest bunk bed from the door and covered her from head to toe in blankets to keep her hidden should Marco come looking.

_She'll be fine Sam, just needs help._

Sam stroked the soft fur at Kerac's neck and tried to calm down, but something was edging its way into his mind, something he and Dean should have thought of earlier.

_Dean, there were three guys with Marco, right? Where..._

A sharp sting in his neck and an instant later Sam blinked.

Dean straightened up, frowning.

_Sam?_

_De..._

It was worryingly faint. Then for the second time that day, Dean felt that awful sensation, a loss of connection.

_SAMMY!_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dante had been in this job for a long time and thought he pretty much knew it all, whereas Alfredo, his kid brother, was a bit of a greenhorn. He was also a smartass in Dante's opinion, and felt like shooting the little bastard at least five times a day. So when Alfredo advised him to duck down – well, his actual words were _get the fuck down you dumb shit someone's here and they're gonna see us_ – Dante flipped him the finger and proceeded on his own merry path. Right into a tree branch swung by an over-enthusiastic Bobby Singer.

Alfredo was considerably smarter than even his brother knew, because he quickly realised that the situation had been over run and the enemy were, well, more or less _here_. If Marco found out just how badly he and his brother had fucked up he wouldn't be long for this world, so he wisely decided that a retreat was in order.

He ran in the opposite direction.

_Right_ into a grinning Joshua, who was holding a particularly evil looking hunting knife.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Tony watched the kid drop, took out the dog before he could bark a warning, and then slowly lowered the tranq gun. Making his way across to the fallen Winchester, he nearly cried out when a huge dark shape appeared before him, growling and baring some of the biggest teeth he'd ever set eyes on.

_Jesus! How many more of these damn things live here?_ He wasted no more time, and another dog hit the dirt, only this one appeared to be snoring. Heavily.

Tony grabbed the kid none too gently and slung him over his shoulder. The next port of call was the barn where he had a length of rope waiting. This time the little shit wasn't escaping, because if he did Tony was as good as dead.

Taking a quick peek round the yard Tony slipped inside the barn then climbed up to the hayloft. The kid would be out for a while so he had plenty of time. Rolling the boy onto his stomach he lashed his wrists tightly behind his back, then used the left over rope to tie his ankles together. Looking all round him he spied what he needed, grabbed the canvas sacking and used a knife from his ankle holster to slice it into two pieces; one he wrapped over the kid's eyes, the other he rolled up and jammed into Sam's mouth, knotting it tightly at the base of his skull.

"That oughta keep you quiet." Tony sat back to admire his handy work, ruffled the boy's hair and grinned. "Relax kid. You aint goin nowhere."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Shortly after Tony disappeared into the barn with a heavily drugged Sam, two things happened.

Dean Winchester locked the bedroom door as quietly as he could from the inside, then with one last check on Nick, climbed out the window and shimmied down the drainpipe. Landing with the grace of a cat he frantically searched the yard, eyes trying to pierce the darkness. An owl hooting loudly nearby startled him slightly, but he was only really focussed on one thing. Finding his brother.

Dean moved in the shadows of the house, hand gun at the ready.

All the while his mind was screaming.

_Sammy? Answer me, please kiddo!_

John Winchester watched the shadow from the tree line, eyes narrowed, gun drawn. Whoever it was had climbed down from a dark bedroom window, which seemed like pretty suspicious behaviour to him. After giving the signal – _a loud owl hoot, not very original but bird noises just weren't his forte, and besides he'd felt quite silly earlier when he tried imitating a wood pecker_ - he decided to follow.

Caleb, Bobby and Joshua heard the signal loud and clear, and homed in on it. They had also seen the dark figure moving stealthily round the main house and immediately understood that John meant to rendezvous with that person and _have a quiet word_.

Bobby moved after John whilst the other two hunters closed in round the other side, carefully avoiding stepping into the light shed from the kitchen window, where a fat guy in an expensive looking suit appeared to be having an argument on the phone and occasionally taking gulps from a half full wine glass.

Caleb grimaced in disgust, guessing that this must be the infamous Marco Del Vecchio.

_Arrogant lookin' bastard,_ he thought as he moved under the window after Joshua.

Dean heard a slight noise behind him, but when he turned something rammed into the back of him, knocking him flying. He landed with a loud _oof, _was flipped onto his back, his hands pinned to either side of his body. Not some_thing_ then.

Some_one. _

Dean could feel hot breath on his face as his attacker leaned over him, and the cold barrel of a gun wedged under his chin. The guy holding him down hissed angrily in his ear.

"Who are you and what have you done with my sons!"

Dean blinked.

"Dad?"

John stilled. "Dean? Jesus kid! I could've shot you!" He rolled off and helped his oldest son to his feet. "And where the hell is Sam?"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Tony, satisfied that his prisoner was immobile and unconscious, slipped back out the barn and headed for the main house. He was looking forward to telling his boss that he had the youngest Winchester held captive and they could go ahead with reeling in the rest of the kid's family.

He'd used up all his tranq darts and was now armed with a fully loaded Peacemaker. Not wanting to run into the kid's older brother, he warily skirted the yard, keeping to the shadows. Dean Winchester didn't frighten him, at least not exactly; Tony just didn't want to get into trouble if he killed the older boy before they'd managed to rope in their father. He had to do things by the book this time, even if said book was the Dummies Guide to the Mafia.

Halting by the last piece of cover and getting ready to make a run for the kitchen door, Tony froze when something hard pressed into the small of his back and a low voice whispered in his ear.

"Don't make a sound."

Tony was forced back into the shadows, away from the glow of the kitchen. His assailant spun him round and smiled evilly, teeth flashing in the dim light.

"Denzil? What happened to your face?"

"Never you mind. Where's the kid?"

"Uh...tied up in the barn. I shot him with the tranq gun so he won't be disturbing anyone for a while." In so far as Tony's limited intelligence ran, he was amazed at this guy. _How'd he know all this?_

"Good. Now get back there and guard him." Denzil growled.

"What?! Why?"

"Keep your fucking voice down! John Winchester's here and he's brought back up. They're on the other side of the house holding a mother's meeting." He sneered at the shocked expression on Tony's face. "Yeah, you fuckwits underestimated him. _Again! _And assuming how Dante and Alfredo turned Houdini on us, I'm gonna take a wild stab in the dark and say it's just you, me and Marco from now on._"_

"Shit!"

"Shit indeed. Now get back to the barn before Winchester and his Merry Girls get their act together and spot you."

It wasn't until Tony was back inside the barn and half way up the ladder to the hayloft that it occurred to him he should be pissed at being ordered around by a newbie.

So he viciously took it out on his captive.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"I don't know where Sam is, Dad." Dean answered, his voice indicating he was on the verge of panic. "I think they've got him, and he's unconscious, I just know it. I can't hear him in my head anymore."

John gave him an odd look, and Dean vaguely heard Bobby shifting from foot to foot.

"Wha...?" John shook his head slowly, eyes never leaving his eldest son's, and tried again. "What dya mean exactly?"

Dean sighed in frustration. "I'll explain later, ok? Just trust me on this. Marco's here and he's got Sam. Nick's been hurt and _we're running out of time!_"

Caleb broke the silence that followed. "Uh, guys? Kid's gotta point." He gestured back round the building. "I'm assuming the giant hippo in the Armani suit, guzzling the entire kitchen's stock of wine is Marco?" At Dean's nod, he added. "Maybe now's the time to go _talk _with him." He raised his shotgun in a meaningful gesture.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Denzil stood by and explained a few things. "Dante and Alfredo are missing, and the French bitch is nowhere to be found. Papa Winchester and his pack, on the other hand, _are_ present and looking for his cubs. I might also add that he's likely gonna be pissed as hell when he finds out that we drugged and kidnapped his youngest son. Again. Only this time, we're out numbered and Tony's about as much use as a condom machine in the Vatican."

Marco stared at him for a long moment before he went truly apeshit. "What the _fuck?"_

"Yeah, things don't look too bright huh?"

But Marco ignored him. "_How dare you_ _blaspheme!_ The only godamned pure thing left in this world is the Catholic Church, and I will _not _stand by and listen to you sully its name!"

Denzil wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, and wisely opted to just keep his mouth shut. Clearly his new boss was just a little insane.

Marco paced up and down a few times before reaching for the phone again.

"Yeah, it's me again." He spoke when someone answered the call. "We got a situation."

Denzil, kept one eye out the window, standing to one side of it so no one on the outside would see his silhouette. But his boss seemed to be having a bad night and Denzil couldn't help by try and listen in.

Marco was furious. "What dya mean you can't get us out? You _got_ us here right? We'refucking_ outnumbered _here! Can't you work that mumbo jumbo magic on us again?"

"_I'd have to be there to...__**transfer **__you. And as the farm stands on hallowed ground, Marco my fat friend, you're on your own. All I want is Sam Winchester. I'll have someone waiting at the end of the lane with a car for you."_

"But, Winchester and his cronies will tear me to pieces before we even get that far!"

"_Surely not. This is, after all, what you wanted? Dean and John Winchester at your mercy?"_

"But...but..." Marco spluttered angrily. "You...you..."

"_Hmm. Very Articulate of you. Now, must go. Don't let me down, Marco, or the last thing you'll need to worry about is being torn to pieces. I want that kid by the end of the night. Good luck, and er...happy hunting." _The dial tone seemed extraordinarily loud in the now silent kitchen.

Staring at the receiver, Marco appeared to be in shock. Denzil cleared his throat respectfully.

"Uh, boss?"

"Uhuh?"

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"Uhuh."

"We do have one ace left up our sleeve." Denzil raised an eyebrow.

"Uhu...what?"

"He's in the barn. Tony's babysitting."

Marco smiled grimly. "Let's go get our hostage."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

John approached the kitchen by sidling along the wall, Dean on the other side. Bobby, Joshua and Caleb stood far back in the shadows armed and ready.

And soon as he heard the words _he's in the barn _and _let's go get our hostage_, John lifted a hand telling Dean to stand down. They couldn't afford to make a mistake at this stage, so they waited until Marco and Denzil set foot outside the door before John caught the Italian in a headlock, his gun pressed into his ear. Simultaneously, Dean brought the butt of his gun down on the back of Denzil's head. The tall, lanky guy dropped immediately, and Caleb took over, dragging him back into the kitchen where he made use of some curtain hemp and towels. He returned, closed the door almost demurely behind him, and brushed himself off, grinning widely.

"Ok. That was fun, what now?"

"Get the fuck off me!" Marco exclaimed indignantly.

"Shut up you piece of shit." John growled, then to Caleb he jerked his head in the direction of the house. "Go check on Nick, make sure she's alright. Josh, you go with 'im."

Joshua was a superb medic when the need arose, and his calm, quiet demeanour put his patients at ease. Dean told him where the bedroom was, and with Caleb in tow Joshua headed inside to look for the doctor.

John gave Marco a violent shake, like a dog with his favourite chew toy. "My son better be alive or I swear to god I'll rip your heart out." He tightened his arm round Marco's neck, cutting off his air and wrenching a choked gasp from the Italian. "See? Not so much fun is it? Being ill treated!" Shoving his gun into the waistband of his jeans, he gripped a meaty arm and forced it up behind the man's back, jamming Marco's hand between his own shoulder blades. Marco would've howled in pain except he couldn't breathe. John continued with his angry taunting. "Hurts don't it? And what about how Sam felt? Locked in that trunk, trussed up like an animal and dehydrating; you ruined his hearing, you stole his dignity, _and you nearly took his life!_"

Dean and Bobby stood there for a moment in sheer awe. Neither of them had ever seen John like this before; in fact a close run to it might have been just after Mary died, but even that paled in comparison.

_Dean..._

Dean swung round, eyes frantically searching the yard. He wasn't quite sure, it was so faint.

_Sammy?_

_Feel sick..._

_Sam? You ok?_

_Can't move...hurts..._

_Just stay still kiddo. Dad's here with Bobby and we're coming to get you._

"Dad! Sam's come round but it sounds like he's hurt. We have to go, come on!"

With Marco still in a death grip, John pushed forward. Once again Bobby and Dean were struck by the expression on his face; it had to be the most dangerous he'd ever looked and Bobby almost pitied the Mafia boss. Dean however felt no such mercy and once again had to fight the urge to drive his foot into the bastards groin; well, until Sam was safe at least.

Stopping at the barn then effectively using Marco's face as a battering ram to open the door, John yelled out. "Let the kid go!" And shoved his captive forwards.

Dean kept silently talking to his little brother trying to reassure him and keep him calm, but it all went to pot when Tony stood up from behind a pile of loose hay, dragging Sam with him. Dean gasped in dismay at the state he was in.

Sam was on his knees, his hands tied behind his back, head sunk to his chest. Blood poured from his nose soaking the material in his mouth, and more stained the blindfold from a deep laceration to the side of his head. Tony grabbed a handful of his hair yanking his head back harshly, and Dean's heart nearly broke once again when a tiny whimper of pain escaped the gag.

"You bastard! Leave him alone!" Dean yelled angrily and cocked his handgun, taking aim.

Tony responded by grinning madly and pushing Sam further towards to edge of the hayloft. He sat right behind Sam, using him as human shield with the kid's upper body dangling helplessly over the edge. The only thing stopping Sam from plummeting was the tight grip Tony had on his hair.

_Dean I'm scared. What's happening?_ Sam's thoughts were just a whisper in Dean's head, telling him just how injured and confused he was.

_Take it easy Sammy, just stay calm._

"Let him go!" John repeated. He tugged on Marco's neck again to emphasize his point. But Marco let out a choking noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter. "What's so funny _bitch?_"

"Doesn't matter. We're dead anyway!" He rasped out. "See, we get you, and the guy with the yellow eyes gets Sam. If we don't give him up tonight, he'll kill us anyway."

If someone had dropped a pin at that moment, the whole world might have heard.

John caught Bobby's gaze. "Yellow eyes?"

Marco nodded, or at least tried to. "Said...the kid belongs to him. And if..." he wheezed for a second trying to draw air passed his abused throat "we promised to give him your youngest, we could kill off the rest of you." Another wheeze, "that's all he wanted. It was mutually bene...beneficial. But if we fail..."

"Why Marco? Why did it have to come down to this? Why couldn't you have just left us alone?" John demanded.

Marco stopped struggling, and his voice when he spoke was dripping with ice. "Your boy insulted me, and because I have to win. It's _that simple_." And drove his free elbow into John's midsection.

John's grip automatically loosened and whilst bent double trying to get his breath back, Marco grabbed his gun from the small of his back, pointing the weapon at Dean's chest.

_Dean...? _Sam, effectively under complete sensory deprivation, could still feel Dean's distress, and panicked.

_Nothing to worry about Sammy, just a little disagreement that's all._ Dean replied soothingly, but he eyed his father's gun, tucked in the sweaty meat hooks of the mafia boss.

"Now this is more like it Johnny. Ah ah _ahh_, I really wouldn't do that if I were you Mr Singer." Marco smiled coldly when Bobby lowered his own rifle in defeat. "Almost as I planned, to make Sammy watch as I took your oldest son's life, right...before...I..." he drew back the hammer and stared into John's eyes "take yours." He finished almost softly.

The loud boom of a shot gun echoed round the barn, and Marco went flying backwards, hitting the barn wall and sinking to the ground. An expression of shock was plastered across his face as he stared down at the steadily growing stain on the front of his expensive silk shirt. He raised his head and gaped like a fish out of water.

Dean, John and Bobby glanced over to see Caleb standing in the doorway, a smug grin adorning his face, which quickly turned to horror.

"Sam look out!"

Marco raised John's gun and had time to take one last lucky shot. Sam gave out a muffled cry of pain as the bullet went clean through his shoulder, and buried itself deep in Tony's chest.

Tony gasped and shuddered, blood spilling over his chin, and almost in slow motion he tipped sideways, letting go of Sam's hair.

Overbalanced and unable to help himself, Sam went over the edge.

_SAMMY!_

Dean watched helplessly as his little brother fell from the hayloft.

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes (or as someone once said 'excuses'):**_

**I'm such a mean bitch eh? And you all love it!**

**As always, **_**ya gotta let me know...**_

**My thanks as always go out to all reviewers, including the anonymous ones. All are equally appreciated.**

**Kind regards,**

**ST.xxx.**


	18. Chapter 18

**In The Arms Of Love Chapter 18**

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Warning: Box of tissues needed and if you have a friend on standby, get them to hug you before you start to read...**_

_**I do apologise for this.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean had no idea how much time had passed as he stood there but on glancing round he noticed to his mild surprise that he was alone. For some reason he expected to find others crowded round, comforting each other in their grief. But that stage had long since passed.

"_Kerac worn you out yet kiddo?"_

_Sam grinned back. "Naw. He's not like Peppy here; if Kerac wrestles me to the ground and sits on my back he doesn't crush me!" _

"_Yeah well Kerac doesn't weigh in at five thousand pounds!" Dean retorted with a mock scowl. "Here runt, help me up." He held out an arm and Sam grabbed at it laughing._

_Laughing..._

He went back to staring at the headstone willing it to disappear, to never have existed in the first place, but it didn't. It was here to stay. Re-reading the engraved inscription brought fresh tears to his eyes and he desperately blinked them away.

_**In loving memory of Samuel David Winchester, **_

_**Fierce warrior, beloved son and brother.**_

"_**It broke our hearts to lose you,**_

_**But you did not go alone,**_

_**For part of us went with you,**_

_**The day God called you home."**_

Six long months had passed since that night, yet it still felt as though it were only yesterday. The grief hadn't moved on with time like everyone said it would. It hadn't budged a fucking inch. They'd _lied _to him. Not only did it remain to torment him, but it grew, twisting and darkening inside him like a cancer. With it came fresh anger, and no sign of reprieve.

John watched his son from a distance. He brought his _only _son here every week without fail. In the beginning Dean had been coming here every day until John found him lying by Sam's grave, asleep and shivering in the cold rain. After the resulting spectacular bout of pneumonia John threatened to have him sectioned unless he sought help. Dean hadn't cared one bit until it occurred to him that he wouldn't be able to go see his brother if he was locked up, and he didn't want Sam to think he'd abandoned him. So, with that grief-stricken logic in place, Dean agreed to accept help, but with that help he also had to agree to cut down on his visits.

John had to admit he was scared. His oldest son was walking an emotional tightrope, and his balance was questionable. He'd heard Dean talking to Sam's grave as though his brother was actually sitting there listening, and sometimes John wondered if it were true. Maybe Sam _was_ here, watching his once strong and cock-sure big brother with those sad puppy dog eyes, seeing Dean fall apart time and again.

If he were honest, John would admit he wasn't much better off. Inside he was a complete mess, asking himself if there was something they could have done differently. If he hadn't left his sons at the farm and gone gallivanting round the country would Sam still be alive today?

Just the very idea of that had his heart twisting viciously with self-hatred.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

John's eyes snapped open in the dark then turned towards the other bed. Low murmurs and anguished sobs had John on his feet and moving towards his son. Clearly Dean was having that same dream again, as he did after every visit. His counsellor had suggested cutting out the visits all together, but John just didn't have the heart to do it. It was Dean's only link with his little brother now, and John was damned if he would take that away from him.

"Dean?" John whispered softly, as he reached out to the nightstand and flicked on the lamp. "It's ok son."

No. It wasn't and never would be, but what else could he say?

Dean's lifeless green eyes stared up at him. "Dad, I can't do this anymore." His voice was a dull as his eyes. "I want to be with Sam. It's my fault he's dead, if we hadn't...if I'd stayed with him instead of going inside the house..."

"Then Nick would be dead, and Sam couldn't have lived with that." John interrupted smoothly, trying to control the fear inside.

"If I'd been standing closer when he fell...if I'd been faster..." Dean continued, voice emotionless, until John dragged him into his arms and held on tight.

After that night, John wouldn't let Dean out of his sight. They were still marking time, whilst John did his best to keep Dean from spiralling inwards

But those words would haunt him forever, he was sure.

_I can't do this anymore._

_I want to be with Sam._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean didn't know how much more he could take. It was as though Sam was calling out to him, begging for help. The dream was the same every time and it was slowly killing him. He wanted release, he wanted to forget, _he wanted_ _his little brother back!_

But that...that..._that..._was impossible.

_And still it kept haunting him..._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean watched helplessly as his little brother fell from the hayloft.

_**SAMMY!**_

Dean scrambled across the floor, arms outstretched, desperate to reach his falling brother. He _almost_ made it.

But almost is _never_ good enough.

Sam hit the barn floor with a sickening thud.

After a shocked pause, Dean dropped down, shaky hand reaching out to his brother's neck to feel for a pulse. He felt cold inside, utter fear almost paralysing him. This seemed too familiar and he hoped to Christ it was all just a bad dream.

A tremendous sense of déjà vu hit him as he stared at Sam lying on his side, unmoving. It was just as before but without the drugged oxygen mask and the trunk of the Impala. This time Sam's wrists were red and abraded by ropes rather than handcuffs.

Sighing a little in relief when he found a pulse, Dean started removing the bonds, careful not to move or jolt Sam in any way. Then he started on the gag and blindfold.

"Oh shit kiddo..." Dean felt sick when he got a close look at the damage to Sam's face but even more so when he checked the cut on the side of his head. He was amazed Sam had been conscious at all throughout the ordeal, though the mark on the kid's neck suggested he'd been 

drugged. It looked like Sam had been shot with a dart of some kind, probably loaded with a heavy sedative.

Turning his attention to the bullet wound in Sam's shoulder, Dean positioned himself behind his brother and braced him against his thighs. Shrugging out of his jacket and balling it up, Dean pressed the material against the wound to try and stem the bleeding. Sam didn't stir, not one flinch, and Dean blinked back tears when he desperately searched for but failed to find his brother's thoughts. Distantly he heard his father yelling for someone to fetch some blankets and call 911, but Dean kept his focus on his little brother.

_Come on kid, where are you?_

Someone helped him wrap Sam in a blanket. Someone placed one round Dean's shoulders. _Somebody_ offered him water but he declined.

In the corner of his eye he could see Caleb's stricken face, saw Joshua carrying a badly injured Nick, who was sobbing softly into the big guy's shoulder.

He had no idea how long he sat there, as still as his unconscious baby brother, pressing his jacket to Sam's shoulder before he realised his father was trying to talk to him. And he got the impression that everyone else but him knew how this was turning out.

"...chopper's here Dean. Ya hear me? They're gonna fly Sam and Nick to the nearest medical centre."

The _whump-whump _of propeller blades finally reached his ears, and _someone_ was removing him from the barn. He didn't fight it; he just watched the barn door with fierce concentration until his brother emerged on a stretcher, safely strapped in, collar round his neck, a breathing tube in his mouth. Sam's face was so pale around the bruises and Dean had an internal battle to stop himself from darting over. He knew he'd only be in the way.

Dean hadn't been able to go in the helicopter for lack of room. A part of him was relieved as he'd never liked flying, but when they got to the other end he wished like hell he'd insisted.

The large EMT loomed over Dean, face contorted in sympathy as he announced softly:

"I'm sorry son, your brother passed away during the flight. We did everything we could... the trauma was just too much for him. He fought hard but he broke his neck when he fell..."

Dean was no longer paying attention. Dark spots marched across his vision as a gurney was wheeled by carrying a shrouded figure, just like weeks before when the Winchesters had played dead to escape the hospital. The memories assaulted him with little mercy, and Dean was running after the gurney. He soon caught up and whipped off the sheet, hoping against hope...

"Sammy..."

His brother's name was a soft whisper of despair on his lips as the world went black. Strong arms caught him and lifted him up, a low, gruff voice breaking with grief against his ear.

"Easy son..." His father sounded distraught and uncertain, and Dean finally let go.

He'd woken up a while later to find John on one side of his hospital bed and Bobby Singer on the other. The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Where's Sam? He ok?"

He was met with an awkward silence and it all came flooding back. Dean swallowed around the hard lump in his throat and began shivering violently, mouth twisted in grim disbelief and anger.

"Dean..." He had no idea who said his name and didn't care.

"Get out." He whispered.

John and Bobby glanced at each other worriedly. When no one appeared to be moving Dean's voice rose to an all out roar.

"I said..._GET OUT!"_

John, tears spilling over his eyelashes made to perch on the edge of the bed, but Bobby was up and grasping his arm, a silent message of support.

_Give him time._

John nodded and dropped his head. He took a deep breath and reached out to pat Dean's trembling hand but tried to hide the hurt when he pulled his hand away.

"When you're ready. I'm here son."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Staring at the grass bump and marble head stone that marked his brother's last resting place, Dean knew he'd never be ready. Even now, sixth months on, he couldn't let Sam go.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

John tried so hard to keep the tears from falling, but when he felt Bobby's hand rest on his shoulder he couldn't hold back any longer.

"I'm losing him." He sniffed and held his upper lip between his teeth hard enough to draw blood. It was the only way he could hold in the undiluted fear and grief with any modicum of dignity. He owed it to Sam to stay strong for Dean. He owed so fucking much it might have been laughable. But even so, hard, anguished sobs finally made their debut.

Bobby stayed silent for a moment before responding.

"Maybe not."

John turned to his old friend. "What?"

"I don't wanna get anyone's hopes up, but Caleb and Joshua teamed up again a few weeks back." Bobby stared intently at John. "They've been investigating some unusual events at a nearby town, people dying in strange ways..."

"Wait!" John angrily backed up a step. "My youngest son is dead and my oldest isn't far behind him...and you want us to help out on a _hunt_? Forget it! No fucking way Bobby! That's not what Dean needs right now!"

"Would you just listen to me ya stubborn ass?!" Bobby grabbed John's arm and yanked him away to the back of the cemetery in case Dean heard them. "That's not what this is about. Caleb and Joshua think they've figured it out..."

John stared at him, his expression quite clearly suggesting that Bobby Singer had finally flipped and was destined for a night in the hospital bed recently vacated by Dean.

Bobby drew in a shallow breath and raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming.

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean stared out the windshield of the Impala, the roar of the engine no longer a comfort to him. More a reminder of what he'd lost.

It was raining again but Dean barely noticed, didn't care. He had no idea where his father was taking him or why; he was just furious to be separated from Sam again and remained stubbornly silent.

John glanced over at him from time to time, wondering if he should have told Dean. But false hope was like a false horizon:

_just when you think you've reached your destination the rug gets pulled out from under you once again_,

and John wasn't sure just how much more his son could take.

No. He was doing the right thing by staying silent. If this worked out...

_There I go again, getting my __**own **__hopes up._

But it was impossible not to, because if this worked..._Stop it! Not going there!_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Ah! Let me guess! More fucking hunters." The trickster threw Caleb and Joshua a smirk. "Couldn't handle me on ya own huh? Well, I _am_ pretty powerful so I _guess..._" He tuned to 

face John and Dean Winchester. Another smirk, more smug this time, "you _really _needed to bring in the heavies. I'm flattered. Really."

The trickster backed away, deceptively calm, hands raised in a gesture of subjugation.

"I bow to your..._expertise!_" Another smirk.

"Cut the crap. We know what you're doin' here." John announced angrily. "Killing people..."

"Ooh John! That's pretty harsh doncha think?" The trickster folded his arms and tilted his head to the side, studying John and Dean.

Caleb shifted a little nervously, whilst Bobby and Joshua watched in silence.

"You don't call killing university lecturers who sleep with their students harsh?" John exclaimed in disbelief. "You really are fucked in the head!"

"Hey!" The trickster almost sounded hurt. "If she were but a few years younger, you guys woulda had 'im hung drawn and quartered for being a paedophile! So don't give me that shit." He jerked his head at Dean and Bobby. "So what you really here for?"

It was Dean that blurted it out, and John cringed_._

"I want my brother back."

The trickster looked at him almost kindly before answering. "I know you won't wanna hear this kid, but he's gone." The expression turned genuinely sad at the hopelessness that crossed Dean's face. "I'm sorry. But he's better off where he is, where no one can harm him. Believe me Dean, he's safe now."

"No! You can give him back, right? I know you can!" Dean couldn't stop himself. "I can keep him safe! Spent all my life keepin' him safe!"

"You aint superhuman kid, no one can promise that." The trickster stared at him and answered with the absolute truth. "No. I'm sorry. You wouldn't believe how sorry I am, 'cos I like ya kid." His voice was solemn and full of remorse, and Dean got the feeling it was genuine. "But I can't give him back to you."

Dean trembled "Please..."

The trickster stared at him for long moment.

When he spoke, it was slowly and he placed his arms behind his back, marching with ease up and down.

"But I _can_ take you back." The trickster turned swiftly to stare at John this time. "Just this one time, this _one chance only_."

Dean held his breath, waiting for his father to turn down the gift. He was bound to. This had to be a trick of some kind. Well, if his father wouldn't accept it...

"Ok." John nodded. "What'dya want?"

The trickster stared at him again. "I have a job to do whether you like it or not. You leave me alone, you stop hunting me." He raised a hand to indicate Bobby, Joshua and Caleb, "You all just..._turn a blind eye..."_ He trailed off with a grin, a raised hand, knowing he had the Winchesters right where he wanted them. "And kill that Italian bastard."

John nodded. "Deal. What happens now?"

The trickster gave a mysterious smile. "_Now_...we find out just how close you can get..."

He snapped his fingers.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean blinked.

A small muffled cry of pain reached his ears and he looked up to the hayloft,

_Sam. You with me?_

_Y...yeah I...I'm here._

_Good to hear your voice kiddo._

It was the standoff, and judging by John's face, it wasn't gonna be any easier.

Marco tried to wrench himself out of John's arms, but it was expected and Marco fell limp and resigned, a direct result of a nasty squeeze to the balls. John had to restrain himself from doing some _severe_ damage, especially in front of his sons.

Tony glanced wildly around, knowing that if he let go of his hostage he was really fucked. He started moving towards the rear of the hayloft, tugging Sam with him.

_Dean..._

_I'm with ya kiddo._

Dean moved close the ladder and stayed there until Caleb signalled to him. Tony scrunched his face up into a petulant frown, nosing the barrel of his gun into Sam's shoulder.

_Go!_

Another shot rang out, and Sam dropped, whimpering in agony.

_Hold on Sammy! Just hold on for me!_

Dean leapt up the ladder and squatted, one knee down, his aim steady. _Point blank?_

His eyes..._deadly._

"_Dean I got 'im. Go!"_

Sam knew what to do, and felt the lead singing over him. Within seconds Tony lay dead on the floor of the hayloft, eyes rolled wide, blood dripping from his nose and mouth.

The Winchesters were no longer playing around, as Marco was about to find about.

John raised his gun to Marco's face, smirked without humour, ignored the desperate pleas, and squeezed the trigger, painting the barn wall a new shade of Brain Red.

The harsh gunshots echoed round the yard as he kept on firing. He no longer cared.

"Sammy?! Dean whispered desperately, and crashed to his knees, dragging his brother into his arms, pressing a palm hard over the bullet wound and removing the gag. Sam groaned in pain...

_Are you there kiddo? Please Sammy, answer me!_

Wrenching off the blindfold, pain filled eyes cracked open, watching him. _M'here. Hurts Dean._

_I know kiddo. Help's on the way._ Dean heard someone making a 911 call and smiled. _Close one buddy._ He dragged his hunting knife from its ankle holster and cut the ropes round Sam's wrists and ankles. Dean leaned back a little to watch his brother's face in something close to wonder, then pulled him forward and buried his face in Sam's neck.

_Jesus Christ Sammy..._Sam frowned when he felt his brother's broken, muffled voice. _I lost you...I lost you...I lost you..._

_I'm right here Dean. _Sam pulled back, concerned and weary gaze rested on his brother_. I'm not goin' no place. Not without you._

Dean offered him up a shaky smile and stared deep into Sam's eyes. "Ya better not."

Sam was surprised to find himself folded once again into his brother's tight embrace. _Love ya kid._

_Love you too Dean. You ok?_

_Just glad to hear...you. _

_Again._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Gonna take ya home back where you belong,**_

_**Back where ya started from, as near as we can come.**_

_**Ooh in the arms of love..**_

_**We got to get to live with the sins of each other...**_

_**Authors notes:**_

Pretty much an epilogue coming up. Sorry to those of you who can't stand the sappy stuff, but that's me I'm afraid.

My love to all of you.

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	19. Chapter 19

**In The Arms Of Love**

**Epilogue**

_**The end is nigh...**_

'_**Tell me now do we bare the sins of each other!'**_

_**T'Pau, Rage.**_

**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**

Dean sat slumped in his seat, tired beyond belief. The last few hours had swept by in a blur of helicopter flights, EMTs and white coats. Once the pain medication had been administered his little brother soon became almost blissfully unaware of what was going on around him. Dean had held onto him as long as possible until the flight personnel began to prepare Sam for the journey.

It was hard, letting him go. The memory of the last sixth months could never be erased and Dean knew he would never be the same again. Anxious eyes followed his brother's stretcher, heart pounding, and perspiration dripping down his face. He remembered all too well what had awaited him at the other end.

But this was different wasn't it? Sam had been awake, talking to him. He hadn't fallen from the loft, his neck wasn't broken. Sam _wasn't_ dying this time round.

A loud argument broke out in the barn as Nick insisted she was ok and that Dean should ride with his brother; the EMT clearly wasn't happy and neither was Joshua. But the little French woman was stubborn as hell, not to mention quite intimidating when her temper got going, and both Joshua and the paramedic experienced the full force of it.

"Nick you've probably got a fractured jaw and some broken ribs. You need medical attention…" Joshua tried again.

"And I can achieve that perfectly well from my own private doctor." She'd pointed over at Dean, frowning. "That boy needs to be with his brother."

The EMT sighed and nodded, knowing it was useless to argue. "Fine, but at least let me check you over before we take off, and give you something for the pain."

Nick grudgingly consented to that, recognising a compromise when she saw it.

John glanced over at Dean, noticed the pitiful attempt to smile. Worry lines, way too old for a kid of eighteen had etched their way onto Dean's face and John was pretty certain it had nothing to do with the prospect of boarding the chopper.

"Dean." Dean seemed to jolt out of whatever thoughts had trapped him and he looked at his father questioningly. John jerked his chin in the direction of the bird. "Go on, we'll meet ya there later. Keep your brother company."

Dean nodded and stumbled over to the chopper. John had never seen his oldest son like this before. He seemed to almost be in a trance as the EMT tending to Sam shifted over to make room for him, but it soon broke when he gazed at his little brother and for some reason Dean started smiling.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

During the pre-flight checks Dean had been holding a conversation with his little brother. He grinned when Sam opened his eyes wearily and gazed up at him.

_How ya feeling Sammy?_

_Hmm. Stoned. Shoulder doesn't hurt though. _Sam giggled drunkenly and Dean's grin widened. _You gonna be ok on this flight? You don't have to Dean…_

_Yes I do._ Was Dean's sudden overly-sharp answer and Sam blinked up at him in surprise. He softened his approach, not wanting to scare the kid. _I'm ok Sam. Just not ready to let you out of my sight, not yet._

Sam frowned worriedly. _Is there something you're not telling me?_

_Nah. But you had me scared back there._ Dean reached out and tugged Sam's hand into his own, the other was resting on his kid brother's scalp. The nasal oxygen tube strapped to Sam's face was a welcome sight, given that before the trickster's intervention he couldn't even breathe by himself. _Thought I was gonna lose you, runt._

_You don't get rid of me that easy._ Sam smiled brightly.

_Better not!_

Dean sensed the curious glances of the EMT but thankfully nothing was said; it would have been tricky trying to explain that he was communicating with his brother via telepathy and Dean was fairly certain that the two of them would end up in the nut house.

He'd been separated from Sam for long enough, and was still having some trouble readjusting to this new reality.

_Sammy was alive._

The rotor blades picked up speed as the other EMT, having finished his examination of Nick Le Monnier, leapt aboard and signalled to the pilot. Once take off was cleared, Dean felt the downwash of turbulent air buffeting his face, and somehow it didn't worry him in the slightest when he felt the craft lift off.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

On arrival at the hospital Sam had been immediately whisked away from him for tests, scans and god only knew what else. The doctor in charge of the ER had graciously come out to talk to him once or twice, and it appeared that Sam, whilst badly injured, was now out of danger. The bullet had passed straight through his shoulder and clean out the other side, and the surgery to repair the muscle damage had been fairly clear cut, much to Dean's relief. The injuries he'd sustained from the beating had been superficial with the exception of two cracked ribs and a fractured cheek bone. All in all, it was agreed that Sam had gotten off light. In Dean's opinion, _anything_ was better than the alternative; a scenario he'd witnessed firsthand.

Dean had called his father's cell earlier to tell him about Sam's progress. Caleb, Joshua, and Bobby were also on their way, with a grumbling Nick in the back of the RV. Dean had the opportunity to talk to her for a few minutes, though her jaw was obviously painful. She instructed Dean to tell the hospital staff that he and Sam were her Godsons, and that she would talk to them as soon as she arrived; that took care of the medical insurance.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The police had arrived at the farm shortly after the chopper took off, and John, Caleb, Joshua and Nick filled them in. A very angry Denzil had been discovered in Nick's kitchen, thoroughly bound and gagged, whilst the bodies of Tony and Marco had been removed by the forensics team.

Bobby had finally directed the officers to two more men that lay trussed up somewhere in the trees, and grinned at the filthy looks thrown at him as they were taken into custody. They'd struggled a little but soon calmed down when they realised that the game was up, and the knowledge that their boss was dead and not about to bail them out with the services of some bent lawyer certainly helped subdue them.

Kerac and Peppy had been found lying in the yard, and there were several sighs of relief when it emerged that they were both alive. The tiny darts John found on examining the dogs were bagged and taken as evidence, and the dogs themselves were carried into the kitchen where they could sleep off the effects of whatever they'd been drugged with. The local vet 

had been called just as a precaution but given that Peppy was snoring away like a buzz saw, everyone felt certain that Dean and Sam's canine pals would be ok.

Nelson, Nick's old black lab, hadn't been so lucky. He'd taken a large calibre round to the belly and had bled out on the floor of Nick's bedroom. His poor body was already cold by the time Nick got to him but that didn't stop her holding him gently in her arms whilst she stroked his soft silky ears. Silent tears rolled down her face as she whispered to him, telling him how much she loved him and what a good, brave dog he'd been. Joshua's quiet presence didn't mock her sentimentality and had been a respectful comfort as he sat next to her cross-legged on the floor of the bedroom, his own blue eyes dark with grief. Nick told him how Nelson had defended her, giving his life to keep her safe, and being the man he was Joshua had to respect a warrior's death.

Nelson had been buried, wrapped in his favourite rug on the far side of the farm, and Nick was sorely missing him. But the comforting presence of the old lab was still there, somehow, someway. And that had to be enough. Old Nelson was still watching out for her, Joshua decided quietly to himself.

It hadn't escaped anyone's notice just how well Nick and Joshua seemed to gel. Even John acknowledged that they made a handsome couple, and it really wasn't like him to pick up on such things.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Dean? Your brother's been settled in his room. Would you like to see him?" The nurse grinned at Dean's expression and rolled her eyes good naturedly. "Silly question. Follow me."

Dean smiled in response as he got to his feet. The nurse was middle aged with grey hair pulled back in a tight bun; her features seemed severe, scary even, until she smiled. She had the kind of smile that lit up her face like a Christmas tree and Dean had taken quite a liking to her. In return she'd taken to mothering him, stopping by with coffee, sitting with him for a while and even bringing him doughnuts and muffins. At first he'd been withdrawn and refused to respond to her, but she soon drew him out and now he knew practically everything about Nurse Amelia Harding, up to and including why she became a nurse, how long she'd been married, and all the names of her grandchildren. Of which there were many. Even though she was obviously busy she took time out to make sure he was comfortable. In her eyes, healthcare was about quality rather than quantity.

Dean trudged a little unsteadily into Sam's room, noting worriedly how pale his little brother was. Amelia eyed Dean appraisingly. He looked exhausted, scared and on the verge of collapse. Haunted green eyes searched his brother's face and the nurse left the room, clearly on a mission.

She came back a few minutes later wheeling a comfortable looking recliner, with soft looking blankets folded up over the arm rest.

Dean glanced from the nurse to the recliner and back. "Uh…what?"

"Sit". She ordered and Dean got the impression that arguing with her would be a really bad move. Covering him with one of the blankets and tucking him in like a small child, Amelia spoke softly and determinedly. "You brother won't be awake for some time hon, so you 

might as well get some sleep." And with that she released the reclining mechanism, the backrest dropping slowly until Dean was lying almost horizontal.

Amelia turned to check on Sam, still muttering. "You won't help your brother if you make yourself sick, sweetie." She made a few adjustments to Sam's IV then brushed the long fringe back from the kid's forehead, a fond smile on her lips. "And god knows, with all you boys have been through…" Amelia turned back only to find that Dean had fallen into a deep exhausted sleep, one hand on the bed, fingers clutching at his kid brother's. Her smile fond broadened.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean woke up and blinked rapidly to clear his vision. His father sat across the bed from him, head sunk to his chest, snoring softly. But when he turned to the bed he immediately sat up and smiled. Sam was staring at him sleepily.

_Hey buddy. How's the shoulder?_

_It's a little stiff._ Sam looked troubled. _Dean, what happened exactly? I still can't shake the feeling I'm missing something._

Dean thought privately for a moment, trying to find a way of setting Sam's mind at rest without telling him everything. _All you need to know is that we're both alive and safe now. We even have police protection until the rest of Marco's business associates have been rounded up._

It was just a precaution in case anybody else out there decided to take another crack at the Winchesters, though it was considered pretty unlikely. Besides, Sam and Dean had their own personal bodyguards in the form of John, Bobby, Caleb and Joshua.

Sam's frown lifted a little as he considered that. _I guess you're right._

_Of course I'm right._ Dean grinned smugly. _I'm always right; that's what comes with being the oldest._

_Yuh huh._

_S'true!_

_You're so full of shit Dean._ Sam chuckled.

_Get some more sleep runt!_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Rumours had been rife throughout the hospital, everyone one, patients and staff alike curious about the two boys that had arrived by chopper. It was a small community with usually very little excitement apart from the odd mountain rescue, and as whispers of drugs, kidnappings and bullet wounds had been stirred up into almost a frenzy, it had fallen to the likes of Amelia to keep the gossip mongers a bay.

These kids needed to be protected until their family got here. And if Amelia found it strange that two law enforcement officers were stationed outside the boy's room, she never mentioned it.

When the father had arrived, a tall intimidating man with deep, fierce brown eyes, he'd been understandably upset to find his boys under police guard. But the detective in charge of the case had somehow managed to calm him down, and Amelia got on with her business, discreetly studying John Winchester from a distance.

He was highly protective of his young, that much was obvious from the way he sat bolt upright, suspicious eyes never leaving her as she bustled round Sam's room, tidying, administering antibiotics and pain meds, and conversing with his oldest whilst his youngest remained in a post-operative doze.

Amelia decided that she pretty much approved of their father, so the next time she came on shift she brought a batch of her famous freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

The other visitors soon grew on her, charming in their own gruff way. Two of them had been introduced as friends of the family, one as the boy's Uncle Bobby and then there was the delightful French lady who was apparently Sam and Dean's god mother, who'd offered a fantastic sounding recipe for Thai style Moules a la crème.

Amelia tried to draw the line at bringing two dogs onto the ward, but the Newfoundland had fixed her with soft brown, pleading eyes and the retriever reminded her of the dog she had as a child.

She was a gonna within seconds, and soon smuggling the canines on the ward late at night.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

A lot of things happened in a very short space of time.

Nick tentatively sipped at her coffee and grimaced. Not only did her jaw ache and her broken ribs annoyed her, but now she had to suffer the insult of vending machine mud. She'd been to see her doctor and stubbornly argued against admission to the hospital for overnight observation, claiming that she had better things to do than laze about, not to mention that she had a farm to run. She would have ground her teeth if it hadn't hurt so much.

Sure, the part time farm hands had agreed to take good care of the place and she trusted them to do a great job, but it still made her uneasy. After her house had been invaded and her sanctity violated, Nick wanted to make the place her home again. Eventually she'd been persuaded to stay on for a while longer just to make sure she didn't develop complications, but now she was anxious to get home.

John had agreed to let the boys stay on with her until Sam was fully recovered, and Nick wanted to clean the house, scrub the bloodstains from the barn, and generally get the place back to normal in time for Sam's release.

In order to placate the injured woman, Joshua had taken a trip back to the farm to get things in order whilst Caleb, John and Bobby kept an eye on the boys. Dean had developed a nasty cold but refused to be separated from his brother, and had to be supervised round the clock. Not that he was seriously ill; it was only because no one trusted him to take it easy.

When word came back that Marco's three surviving accomplices had been charged with attempted murder, kidnapping and a whole host of other offences, all three Winchesters were able to draw a tentative breath of relief. It had been further confirmed that everyone associated with Marco had turned their backs, some of the other Italian families even coming out and publicly condemning his actions. Because of Sam's tender age the Winchester name had been kept out of the press, which was another cause for relief.

Now that the danger had passed, John had a few questions for his boys.

"Alright, what's going on with you two?" He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. Nick glanced between John and his sons and hid a smile. She had a fairly good idea but it wasn't her place to discuss it. Sam was still her patient after all.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Uh…" Then Dean sneezed.

Sam winced and glared at him. "Dude, you could've warned me! My head felt like it was about to come apart."

"Sorry kid." Dean sniffed with genuine remorse and blew his nose. "Wasn't expecting that one."

John frowned. "Since when does Dean sneezing cause you pain, Sammy?"

Sam smiled sheepishly. "Um…since…well….we….uh." He looked at his brother for help with this one. Preferably snot-free help. He was out of luck as Dean sneezed again then broke out into a harsh round of coughing. Sam winced again, this time in sympathy.

"We…uh…somehow, and we don't know when it really started but…we learned how to communicate….telepathically." Only that last word came out muffled and sounded more like '_tnnnelpathny'_

"What?" John shook his head on confusion. "Didn't catch that."

Sam rolled his eyes and scratched absentmindedly at his healing shoulder through the sling. "Telepathically." He batted Dean's hand away when his older brother tried to stop him scratching. "We can use telepathy."

John's mouth dropped open rather comically. "Huh?"

"We can read each other's thoughts." Dean rasped out. "It's proved useful from time to time."

John stared at his sons for a moment before turning to Nick, almost accusingly. "Did you know about this?"

Nick gave her famous French shrug. "I had my suspicions."

There was an uncomfortable silence before John took a deep breath. "Well, at least I know you boys can stay in contact with each other no matter what."

"Apart from when one of us is unconscious or in a deep sleep, which was why I couldn't hear Sam after he was taken." Dean croaked. "He just disappeared off the radar."

"Must've been a powerful sedative." John raised a surprised eyebrow.

"It was." Sam answered quietly. "I felt something in my neck and a second later I was out."

That was really the only blessing about all this. Sam had been drugged again and therefore didn't recall much about that night. Dean, on the other hand, had missed nothing and now he couldn't even hide the anxiety from his brother as was more than obvious by the concerned looks Sam kept throwing him.

It was slowly dawning on Dean that he was the only one who knew what really happened before the trickster showed up, which in some respects was a blessing in disguise. He would have to serious work on those shielding techniques when it came to Sam. He never wanted Sammy to find out about that now non-existent period.

In time maybe he _could_ forget those sixth months. Sixth months without Sam, his little brother dead and buried. Not even his father seemed to remember. But now he had no one to talk to about it, no one that he could share the lingering grief with. For as much as Sam was now alive and kicking, Dean still felt the pain and anguish of his death.

Shrugging it off and planting a mischievous grin on his face, Dean pulled out a pack of cards. "Who's up for some Blackjack? We got some time to kill before Sammy gets his walking papers."

Sam glared at him. "No cheating. I can't hear but I _can_ read your mind!"

"Would I?" Dean sneezed into a fresh Kleenex.

Sam screwed up his face in disgust at the wet snorting that followed, and John got to his feet laughing.

"I think I'll pass. Nick? Mind if I have a word about the living arrangements?"

Nick nodded congenially and left the room to the sound of the boy's good natured bickering.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

John faced Nick with a worried, almost angry expression on his face.

"So, my boys can mind read."

Nick shook her head. "Only each other's as far as I can tell." Then she unleashed the _big _news. "Your boys are psychic John."

"_Damnit!_" John faced the wall and glared at it.

"I don't understand what the problem is here." Nick responded with some surprise. "Surely this is a good thing for them. They can protect each other much better as they learn how to use their gifts."

John didn't say anything for a moment, then he asked quietly. "Is Sam's hearing loss really permanent?"

"Like I told you on the phone." She replied sadly. "There's nothing we can do."

They both fell silent.

"I felt it John." John glanced up at her in surprise. "Whatever it was that helped Marco find the boys, it was powerful. I've never come across anything like that before. I could feel it, probing my mind until it found a way in. Then it used my own mind against me."

"Yeah." John breathed out. "Demons can do that."

"So _that's _what a demon feels like?" Nick tilted her head to look up at John. "Hmm. I'll know better for next time." Then she changed the subject completely. "So, I've organised to have a bed made up for you at the farm. I trust you'll be staying with us while the boys heal." It wasn't a request.

"Damn straight I am. Spent too long away from them as it is."

"Bon!" Nick grinned and made to go back into the boy's room, but suddenly glanced back. "You _are _a good man John Winchester." And she was gone, leaving a very perplexed John in her wake.

After everything that happened, he sure didn't feel like a good man.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam sat out on the veranda, an open copy of Great Expectations perched on his raised knees. His arm was still in a sling but it hurt less each day. Kerac dozed beside him, stretched out lazily, front and rear paws extended. Occasionally the young dog made small snuffling and whimpering noises in his sleep, then his legs would start scrabbling around as he dreamed of chasing rabbits. It never failed to amuse Sam every time.

He glanced up every now and then to watch his brother putting Peppy through his paces. Dean was attempting to train the Newfoundland as an attack dog. He'd even made a dummy out of sacks filled with straw and drawn a face on it with a black marker pen. Sam had taken the opportunity when Dean's back was turned to draw thick girly eyelashes on the damn thing and added pigtails he'd made from some old rope he found in the barn. The result was that every time Dean pointed at the sack dummy and yelled 'kill!' the dog just looked at it and appeared to laugh in his face.

It was to be the start of a prank war. Dean got his revenge by dressing the dummy in one of Nick's nightgowns, drawing on a suggestive expression and placing it in Sam's bed. The resulting girly screams kept him laughing all through the night.

And that led to Dean opening the bathroom door one morning to find the dummy hanging by a noose from the light fitting; to add insult to injury a blue tongue had been drawn on, and Dean had to admit it was a good prank.

John put a stop to it after that, knowing his sons had a tendency to let these things get out of control, and the sack dummy was once again employed in training Peppy. Dean was certainly persistent; Sam had to give him that. After hours of careful, iron willed patience, Dean had managed to get Peppy to at least sniff the dummy, before the dog rolled on his back, legs in the air, begging for a tummy rub.

As Sam grew stronger the boys once again began going out on daylong hikes, but this time John went with them so that Sam didn't have to carry too much. It was real quality time with their father, the likes of which they'd never really had before. There were no hunts, no discussions of anything supernatural, just family, and John was impressed at their ability to 

blend in with nature. Bobby even accompanied them sometimes when he wasn't helping out round the farm.

Joshua and Nick spent a lot of time together, in between Sam's music therapy sessions, and their relationship was blossoming.

Caleb was the first to leave, having been terrorised by Napoleon one too many times. It wasn't that the goose disliked him, however. Just the opposite. Everywhere he went Napoleon followed, beating his wings and honking at him. Caleb swore at him, yelled and even tried to threaten him. The last straw came when he found the goose in his room sprawled out on the bed as though he owned the place, which in retrospect Caleb supposed he did. He'd certainly never met a more territorial bird. But one that was apparently gay – _in his view_

_- _was just too much.

Joshua moved on next, though he planned to make regular visits. It was obvious he'd fallen for the doctor but he wasn't the type to settle down in one place. Maybe one day, but for now he had work to do and Nick didn't have much to say about it.

Bobby had to return the RV, get back to his salvage yard and so the numbers dwindled even further.

John decided to give his sons a little longer. It was Nick who persuaded him. She'd been observing the brothers more closely than ever before and she knew something was troubling Dean. Every now and then, when Dean thought no one was watching him, his eyes glimmered with fear, especially whenever he looked at Sam.

When they first got back from the hospital Dean's over-protectiveness had been spiralling out of control and he barely left his brother's side. Sam hadn't minded and even took comfort in 

it, which surprised John. His youngest boy was extremely independent and usually hated being coddled, but he seemed to sense that this was what Dean needed. Anything to put his big brother's mind at rest.

But as days turned into weeks Dean began to relax. It helped that the boys hadn't been called as witnesses to the trial of Marco's goons, mainly because the evidence was overwhelming but also because full confessions had been obtained.

When it was finally the Winchester's turn to leave there were a few problems to overcome. Namely the dogs; there was no question of who they truly belonged to. Kerac was Sam's, Peppy was Dean's. But taking two dogs on the road was out of the question, especially in the Impala. In the end it was agreed that the dogs would remain with Nick. It was their true home after all.

Peppy and Kerac would undoubtedly pine for Sam and Dean, but the boys were encouraged to visit often, and John promised to make sure of it.

He watched his sons as they took the dogs on their last hike and decided to stay behind; they needed time to say goodbye. And John needed time to think.

The yellow eyed demon would come after the boy again someday, he was certain, and the next time he might succeed. But now it seemed that Sam wasn't the only one of his sons in danger from the bastard.

John also had the nagging feeling that something was missing, that a significant amount of time had passed without him remembering. In short he felt _displaced._

It worried him because he was sure that Dean was heavily involved, but trying to get him to talk about it was like trying to get money from a lawyer. Even Sam felt uneasy though he couldn't say why. All he told his father was that Dean and he had to learn some thought-shielding techniques for the sake their sanity and privacy, and Dean had become a master of it. And Sam could only guess that his older brother was hiding something.

John also guessed there should be no surprises there. It always had been Dean's forte. They weren't going to get it out of him, even with torture techniques. It was clearly something Dean needed to work through on his own.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

On the last day, Dean went to the barn and gazed up at the hayloft fearfully. He could still recall it, he could count every second that it took his little brother to fall. A shudder ran through him and he scrunched his eyes shut...

_Oh god Sammy..._

"Dean?" He turned sharply. Nick was sitting on a bale of hay, watching him carefully.

"You don't have to say anything; I have a pretty good idea." She continued softly.

"_You_ reading my thoughts _too _now?" But his tone was _trying _to be good natured.

"Non. Just your body language. Tricksters are, by their very nature, _tricky, yes?_" She tilted her head in that way that made him feel intensely scrutinised, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Nick..." Dean sounded and looked desperate. "Please, Sammy can never know." He stopped when she held out a hand to him. He hesitated before moving over and placing his palm in hers.

She gazed at him steadily. "He will not hear it from me. But one day mon Cheri, you may have to tell your Sammy. This is just your first encounter with such a being. And it

_won't _be your last."

Dean nodded resignedly. Somehow he believed her.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

John was tempted to leave his sons with Nick, but i_nstinct_... told him they had to stay with _him. _Or was that purely because he assumed they belonged? In the end it was the boys that decided it. Sam wasn't going anywhere without Dean, and vice versa. Apparently, Sam and Dean had made their own decisions.

It was truly sealed when they reached the motel, Sam booted up the laptop, took one look and announced to his family. "What's the point in putting this off?"

And that really told him something...it told him a reluctant warrior had been truly born.

And for that reason, no matter what came of it, John would never forgive himself.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

__

_**Authors notes:**_

_**Make of it what you will.**_

_**Got major writers block and I can't do this anymore.**_

_**I apologise for anything that seems out of whack; if you don't like it then just remain quiet. For my sake pleae.**_

_**Kind regards,**_

_**ST.xxx.**_


End file.
